


He's Just Too Good For You

by JaneAire



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: A very horny Ravus and Aranea, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Frottage, Gladnis, Grinding, Jewish!Ignis, M/M, Modern au but still Insomnia, Sharing a Bed, So many bottoming jokes, Swearing, The opposite of a slow burn, more tags to come, political families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-12 01:38:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12948510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneAire/pseuds/JaneAire
Summary: “Ignis Scientia, I am begging you to be my fake boyfriend. Please come home with me for Christmas break.”Gladnis + that good ol' fake dating for the Holidays trope





	1. The Way You Move

Gladiolus hadn't ever paid Ignis Scientia much mind. Sure, they'd known each other for a few years now. He was that mom friend everyone kept around because they constantly had coffee and snacks in their dorm room, and an open door policy. Gladio had swung by the room after a drunken night more than once to simply avoid the DA and, ya know, dying of alcohol poisoning. 

They didn't really _know_ each other, ya know? He was Noctis’ straight laced family friend and Gladio wasn't gonna be the one to tell him he couldn't sit with them when they crowded around the table of the library. They always made sure to invite him to parties, but he almost never came, unless Noctis was in a particularly reckless mood; then he shadowed the kid all night, ready to collect him when he dropped to take him back to his dorm and tuck him in like some kind of nursemaid. 

Gladio couldn't remember the last conversation they'd had, the two of them. He remembered sophomore year, Gladio had offered him one of his books--Ignis looked like a real intelligent guy, right? He enjoyed reading? No, as it would turn out, he did not, especially not drivel like something entitled _Dark Lover_ ; Ignis stuck to fact and figures, things that made sense, had one correct answer, thank you very much. 

That had been the last olive branch Gladio had offered him. 

Still, now, with all of them crowded around a table in their study room, Gladio couldn't help but groan aloud after receiving what was arguably the worst text in his life. Ignis, sitting beside him, didn't cease scratching his number two pencil--wooden, primary yellow--across his college ruled notebook, but did cast his eyes to the taller man next to him, who had let his phone fall on the desk with a dull clack, hands gripping his baseball cap dramatically.

“What's wrong, big guy?” Noct called lethargically, head down on the table. He'd long since given up studying for finals, claiming his brain was pouring out his ears. Gladio figured he'd be done too, if he had three pretty blondes at his disposal to do all the work. Luna rubbing soothing circles into his back, Prom with his fingers in his dark hair, and Ignis copying out his own study guide--Yeah, the little punk had it easy. “Leather pants finally choke your balls to death?” 

Gladio elected to pick his battles and let that slide--Luna swatted his arm for him. “Aranea bailed on me for Christmas. She's going to China with some girl she met in DC to hook up for the entirety of break.” 

Prompto let out a low whistle. “That's rough, buddy.” 

“It's not like your dad would've bought that you're seeing Aranea Highwind, anyway,” Noct snorted, adding another little paper folded football to the pile he'd made out of his notes. “She's thirty. And a liberal. And projected to win her election the second she runs for the Senate. Not to mention way out of your league--” 

“I got it, Noct, okay? I got it.” 

Luna was kind enough to offer Gladio a smile and rest of her package of Oreos--nearly empty, despite the fact she'd bought the family box this morning on their store run. Gladio wasn't gonna say anything. She looked ridiculously worn out, a little miserable, but Gladio would be too if he had to marry Noct. Political marriage or not, Luna still looked radiant to every inch Noctis was total slob--sure, her hair was frizzed today and her cream cable knit sweater was falling off her pale shoulder, but this was her last semester, and he figured the finals would be killing him, too. 

“Why have Aranea falsify a relationship with you in the first place? Surely your father doesn't care so much about seeing you with a steady girlfriend,” Luna asked, her bright eyes genuinely concerned. Gladio wouldn't mind ending up with a girl like Luna--he just wasn't sure many more were out there, and he sure as hell didn't deserve one. 

Neither did Noct, sitting up to stretch and wiping drool from his chin, his pile of paper footballs falling the ground. “Amicitia tradition. Gladio is almost twenty five, and Clarus expects him to run for the House soon. He already fucked up and put off college--” 

“We got it,” Gladio groaned again, head in his hands. 

“And got in all that trouble with the tabloids after he went to that sex party--”

“Yes, Noct, everyone saw the papers, can we move on, please?” Gladio whined. “It doesn't matter. I don't have anyone to take home, so I'll just take the reaming my dad's gonna give me and deal with it, okay?” 

“Why not try and find someone else?” Prom offered. “You're a good looking guy, and you've got the cash to pay em, plus free food and free rooms for the holidays. Not a bad deal.” 

“Why, are you free?” Gladio grumbled sarcastically, before realizing he was so desperate, he might actually take Prompto. Clarus had made it fairly clear coming home empty handed this time meant an arranged marriage--Gladio wasn't in for that. Not yet. He needed time. 

Prom had the nerve to act offended, clinging on to Noct's bicep dramatically. “Gladiolus, you know I have eyes for one man--besides, Noct and I are going up to Luna’s brothers cabin up north to go skiing.” 

Gladio winced at the mention of Ravus. They were in the same district, meaning when Gladio did gather up the balls to run for the House, it would be against Ravus--and everyone loved Ravus, the war vet, the free thinker, the best Fleuret in politics for decades now. Gladio couldn't win against him by a long shot, and, frankly, the man did a damn good job governing. 

“What about Cindy?” Gentiana offer, glancing up with wise eyes over the brim of her latte. Finals, it seemed, hadn't affected her at all. She was entirely put together from her metallic manicure to the starched silk fabric of her dark blazer. She and Ignis managed to never look frazzled, somehow, if not a tad bit exhausted. 

“She's going up to visit Holly,” Luna got a misty faraway smile. “Have you ever seen a more perfect couple?” 

“Indeed,” Ignis muttered half heartedly, clearly kicking Noctis under the table, who had the nerve to look peeved. 

“You really don't have a lot of friends, do you, big guy?” Noct snorted. 

“I hear Ulric is single for the upcoming break,” Ignis said with a wry smile over his coffee cup. “But that may just be a rumor. I don't pay all that much mind to him.”

“Hmm,” Gladio conceded. Wouldn't that just be perfect? 

All he needed was someone quiet, but at least smart to impress his dad. Someone with no plans for break. Someone with no fucking social life to speak of--

Ignis was still scribbling out Noct's media ethics notes when Gladio snapped his head to face him, an audible hush going over the table, Ignis oblivious to Gladio's thought process in the way the others weren't. 

“No fucking way,” Noct snickered, earning another cuff from both Prompto and Luna, who were trying to look busy and ignore this head on collision Gladio was getting ready to initiate. 

“Noct, we've talked about the swearing--” Ignis cut off when he found Gladio sitting too close, the taller man's knees pressed against the dark oak of his own chair. “Can I help you, Gladiolus?” 

Gladio looked damn near crazy, he knew, with his eyes wide and hands clasped on the table, very dignified and hopeful, decidedly non-Gladioesque. 

“Ignis,” he began slowly, hoping his desperate smile was somewhat charming. “What are you doing for break?” 

“No.” 

“Iggy, buddy, we're friends, aren't we?” Gladio begging, dragging himself closer when Ignis pretended to be overly invested in his work, his nose nearly rubbing against the notebook paper. 

“I believe Noctis might require my assistance over break in the mountains--” Ignis protested, but Noct held up a hand, red in the face from laughing. Prompto wasn't far off, his face ducked in his best friend's neck to hide his expression and smother his laughter. 

“Nah, Specs, take the break off. Gentiana is coming; she'll be there if I need anything.” 

The exasperated look Gentiana and Ignis gave one another immediately over their lattes might have been funny if Ignis’ ears weren't so pink, or his mouth set so grimly. 

“Thank you, Noct, much appreciated,” he muttered stiffly; Prompto was nearly out of his chair with laughter, and even Luna had to hide her smile behind her pretty hand. 

“Ignis, buddy, I'm begging,” Gladio whined. “I will pay you. I will be your slave for the entirety of next semester. This counts as networking! My dad is the secretary of defense--” 

“Noct's father is the President, Gladio. I believe I have my references in order.”

“Be a pal? I will beg, Ignis, it won't be pretty,” Gladio warned, his amber eyes desperate when Ignis met them reluctantly. “You want me on my knees, Ignis? I'll get on my knees.” 

“Oh, Christ, Ignis, take pity on him! Don't make him do this.” 

“I'm not making him do anything!” Ignis exclaimed, beginning to throw his things into his satchel, rising to leave. “My answer is no, Gladiolus.” 

Gladio on his knees was certainly a sight, Ignis had to admit, but not one he needed with four other sets of eyes on him. Gladio's big hands on his hips, however, entirely unwarranted. 

“Gladiolus!” 

“Ignis Scientia, I am _begging_ you to be my fake boyfriend. Please come home with me for Christmas break.” 

The wolf whistles from the boys only served to expedite the fact he wished the floor would swallow him whole. When Ignis locked eyes with Gentiana across the table to find her giving him that knowing smile with her glosses lips, he knew the only way to get out of this would be if he drop kicked the giant man across the room. 

“What are the rewards to this?” Ignis sighed in resignation, and Gladio's fingers squeezed his hips tighter in hope, a blistering grin on his face from where he stared up at the advisor. 

“Free room, hot food, and you get to look at me,” Gladio grinned, rising to his feet. “And five hundred bucks? That sound fair?” 

Ignis sighed. This could only serve to aide him in the future, if he were honest. Getting close to Clarus had its perks; Gladio being indebted to him could be useful. He'd aligned himself with Noct for several reasons, but surely it wouldn't hurt to put his eggs in a few other baskets? 

Two weeks. He only had to survive two weeks. 

“I'll draft a contract tonight. Try and meet me at some point before finals to go over it? I prefer not to fax it to you where anyone can see.” 

“Yes! Yes, yes! Ignis, you're the man, dude!” 

Gladio's hug was vaguely soul crushing, along with decimating some of the cartilage discs in Ignis spine, lifting the man off the ground and wrinkling his dress shirt. 

“We're obviously going to have to set some ground rules,” he rasped, tapping Gladio's shoulder in a plea to be let loose. 

“Right, um, sorry, Iggy--” 

“First things first,” Ignis sighed heavily, bracing one gloved hand against the table, the other shoving his glasses up on his nose. Gladio had never been on the receiving end of one of Ignis’ signature diplomatic, domineering stares, but no matter how many times he'd seen it scare Noct straight, he wasn't prepared for how dark Ignis’ early autumn eyes got, how fucking terrifying. “I am in charge.”

Gladio swallowed. “You know, that's fair.”


	2. Long Were the Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don't sleep with him either.” 
> 
> Ignis nearly choked. “Don't insult me, Noctis.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Episode Ignis STILL has not finished downloading, so I am SUFFERING and wrote this. Forgive me, it's a bit wordy, but the last of the necessary exposition. Hope you enjoy ♡

“Doesn't he own a shirt?” 

Ignis took care to avert his eyes as Gladio ripped his shirt up over his head and tossed it into the bed of his truck. He didn't pay nearly as much mind into schooling his expressions to keep the distaste off of his face, causing Noct to snort. 

“Dude, he's just changing.” 

“In a parking lot?” Ignis sighed, his nose still wrinkled in disgust as he pulled his knitted cream colored cap down further over his ears. “The man has no concept for the respect you show others in a public setting. It's disgraceful.” 

Noct rolled his eyes, bumping his hip against the taller man's and fixing him with a look that made Ignis feel considerably smaller than he had before their conversation had begun. 

Gladio was loading up the last of their bags for the long drive home into the bed of his truck, and likewise, the others were loading up Noct's oversized SUV for their ski trip, Prompto eagerly chirping at Luna and Gentiana about getting group pictures done with the snowy backdrop. Two rows away were a group of men, leaning against similarly styled vehicles, purposefully looking away from the six of them. When Noct pulled out, they'd follow shortly behind. 

Ignis wasn't used to not being shadowed by undercover glaives; he'd be entirely alone with Gladio for the next two weeks. Unfortunate. 

“Don't kill him? He's not, ya know, a _terrible_ guy.” 

“That's a wonderful campaign slogan,” Ignis grumbled dryly, still squinting in the distance as Gladio pulled a clean hoodie over his head, frizzing his unruly mane of hair, which was damp as if he'd just stepped out of the shower. Ignis pulled his wool peacoat tighter around his waist. “Remind me to request a dazzling review from you should I ever run.” 

“Don't sleep with him either.” 

Ignis nearly choked. “Don't insult me, Noctis.”

Noct shrugged. “Hey, he's just got that reputation, ya know? He's definitely got some STD, though. Like, if you ever get tempted, just imagine how genital warts will feel.” 

“ _Noctis._ ”

“Feel blessed that you had your Brit Milah young.”

“You know,” Ignis groaned, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Perhaps it'll be nice to have a break apart.” 

“There's no need to be hurtful, Specs.” 

“Mm,” Ignis sighed, seeing Gladio nod to him in signal that he was ready. “Do be careful? If you need anything, you know I'm only a call away.” 

“Yes, Mother.” 

Ignis smacked the back of his head lightly, pulling Noct's red hoodie--one that technically belonged to Prompto--down over his ears. 

“Be safe. Don't make dumb choices. Be considerate of the other three and for the love of goodness, do not do anything stupid. If I see your bare behind on the cover of the Insomnian Times again I _will_ personally see it to that a Niff sniper squad takes you out.” 

“You don't reply to my nudes any other way--ouch! Dude, secret service is gonna take you out if you hit me again,” Noct grumbled, scrubbing at his neck with a free hand. 

“I think not,” he grinned fondly, smoothing out the collar of Noct's shirt. “Do text?” 

Noct gave a weak smile; more pursed lips than teeth. “It's not gonna be as bad as you think, Specs. Gladio isn't a bad guy.” 

“I'm more worried about you.” 

Noct's grin crooked a little, revealing a white flash of a canine. “You just want me to say I'll miss you.” 

“Indeed.” 

“C’mon, Sleeping Beauty, we're gonna miss our flight!” Prompto called from his place in the driver's seat, honking the horn for emphasis until Ignis blanched. 

“Do not let that boy kill you on the way to the airport.” 

“Chill. I'll text you when we land--and remember: dick warts.”

Ignis just nodded, suddenly aware that Gladio was still leaning against the tailgate of his rusty truck--a rather trashy piece, if he were honest, and he couldn't believe Secretary Amicitia let him drive around in it--eyes trained on the ground with his hands stuffed in his pockets, waiting patiently. Ignis winced. 

“Gentiana, do take care of the children?” Ignis called, throwing his satchel in the cabin of the truck, nodding to the SUV. 

Gentiana grinned at him, her heart shaped sunglasses low over her eyes--usually a sign she and Luna had smoked up their dorm last night in a celebration ode to the end of finals, doubtless. 

“I'll keep him out of the paper. Have fun, you two.”

Ignis harrumphed, but vaulted himself into the heap of Gladio's truck. The leather seat--a bench, as if this ride wouldn't be awkward enough--made a rather undignified sound as Ignis lowered himself upon it. The inside smelt like tobacco, but not the friendly sort that signified there had been an elderly owner previously, and there was an underlying smell of fast food and lemon pledge. If it weren't so cold, he'd have cracked his window already. 

Gladio fell into the driver's seat with a thud, grinning at Ignis with wild eyes. 

“You ready, pal?” 

Pal. Golly, no wonder Noctis was worried about Ignis falling into bed with him. What a real charmer. 

“As I'll ever be. Best pull out of the lot now before I change my mind.” 

Gladio's smile faltered for just a moment, and Ignis realized that the larger man was nervous. He wasn't unfamiliar with the expression, panicked just behind a calm facade--Ignis had the ability to do that to people. It got old, after a bit. 

“Uh, right,” he bumbled, putting the truck into gear, but not before rucking his shirt up again enough to scratch at his pectoral. Snapping his neck at whiplash inducing speeds, Ignis focused his eyes on the road, feeling a migraine beginning to buzz at his temples. 

“Must you absolutely do that?” He grumbled, and, true to fashion, Gladio looked clueless, his chest still beared in the air of the truck cabin. 

“What?” 

“Expose yourself,” he breathed incredulously, feeling a redness creep at the back of his neck--a blush from frustration more than anything, he was sure. 

Gladio's grin was lecherous, uncomfortably cocky as he ceased scratching at his breast. Ignis shifted to face the window, leaning his head against the glass. Gladio was the sort of thing that made Ignis despise politics; men who were entitled to everything but put in no effort. He'd been born into a family that assured him financial success, stardom, and immunity from wrong. 

And, yeah, he looked an awful lot like the guys in highschool that call every kid under five foot six the f word. Perhaps Ignis was a little biased. 

“Why? It bugging you?” Gladio grinned, glancing at infrequently with curious amber eyes. 

“I simply wish you'd put them away before your headlights cause a head on collision via distracting the other drivers.” 

Gladio blinked. “Was--was that a joke?” 

Ignis let out an audible sigh. He wasn't sure he could handle two weeks of Ignis-the-emotionless-robot jokes. 

“I'm going to try and get some rest. It's a long drive, is it not?” 

Gladio paused, but nodded gruffly, his jaw set. “Uh, yeah. Few hours.” 

“Wake me up a bit before we get there, if you wouldn't mind?” 

“You got it.”

\----

Ignis didn't sleep long; the sense of impending doom clouded the cabin of the truck, and he couldn't help like feeling this had been a terrible mistake. He wondered if the other four had already boarded the plane. 

He chanced a glance at Gladio from where he was still bundled in his sleeping position, and Ignis was surprised to find him stoic, thumbs tapping along the steering wheel to a Taylor Swift song playing quietly on the radio. At least he'd been considerate enough to play it low while Ignis slept. His tit was also tucked neatly under his shirt, so Ignis didn't have to avoid staring at his monstrous pectoral anymore. 

The clock on the dash was kind enough to display the fact that it was the late afternoon, meaning they only had an hour or so left in their journey. Might as well get this over with.   
Gladio stiffened when he saw Ignis righted up, pushing his arms out dramatically to stretch, curling his wrists a few times. He hadn't bothered to take off his gloves, even though the heat was running full force through the cabin--well, as well as it could, anyway. 

“Heya,” Gladio called, his voice gravelly from underuse in the car. “Sleep well?” 

“Indeed. Thank you for the indulgence.” 

“Sure thing,” Gladio chuckled, reaching up with a thick fist--Goodness, the man had hands built like a monster--to click off the radio. Never a good sign. 

“We should, uh, probably talk, huh?” Gladio said, punctuated by another nervous giggle that he probably thought was amicable. 

“There are definitely things that need to be addressed before we arrive,” Ignis agreed, lowering his sun visor and popping open the mirror to get a glimpse of his face. “Where would you like to start?” 

“What do you need to know?” 

“I'm pleased you asked,” Ignis said, producing a small notebook from the breast pocket of his peacoat and flipping through the pages, before settling on a page. Gladio took the distraction as the chance to merge right, exiting the interstate to a little town whose signs indicated it consisted solely of three gas stations, a Chocobo Hut, and some fast food chain he'd never heard of before. 

“Do you make outlines for everything?” Gladio chuckled, horrified to find the page he'd stop on was marked up in black ink, a few things underlined and bulleted, space clearly left for answers to be filled in. Ignis, likewise, had produced a pen and was tapping it anxiously against the page. 

“I have a rather shoddy memory,” Ignis said in way of explanation, pausing to look perplexed as Gladio rolled up to the drive-thru of a little diner. 

“Mmm,” Gladio said, dismissive and disinterested. Ignis wasn't sure why he expected any less. He didn't ask Ignis what he wanted, just ordered them two burgers and two milkshakes and rolled ahead to the next window. 

At least while Gladio was diverted, he had the opportunity to pull his cap off his head, and fix the stringy mess that his hair had become underneath. Thankfully, some of the gel he'd applied earlier still had a bit of a stiff quality to it, and he'd been able to rectify the situation quite a bit. 

He was meeting his boyfriend's family, after all. He had to look his best. 

Not that Gladio cared, with his tangled mane of hair and hoodie covered in pillfuzz from overuse. Gladio handed Ignis a carton of fries, setting the bags on the bench between them. 

“You'll need to brief me on the contents of your household,” Ignis reminded him. “We'd have discussed that if we were dating.” 

Gladio nodded, taking in an inappropriately large bite of food that had Ignis glancing out the window again. Charming. This was the man that had a reputation of a sex god? Unbelievable what an attractive pair of thighs can do for you. 

“You know my dad, yeah?” 

Ignis nodded. “We've never formally spoken, but I've seen him from time to time.” 

“Cool, good. I've got a little sister, Iris. She's fourteen.” 

Ignis nodded. “I've seen photos of her, as well--I feel woefully underprepared, I didn't think to bring her flowers.” 

Gladio snorted. “You're in love with me, remember? Bring me some fuckin’ flowers.” 

“Prove to be considerate and I might.”

Gladio snorted. “Thanks again for doing this. I really appreciate it more than you know.”

“Yes, well, I'm well aware it doesn't hurt to network,” Ignis shifted uncomfortably under the thanks. “But be well aware that should I need a favor in the near future, you're the one I intend to call upon.”

“That's so fine. Seriously. You're really saving my ass here, Iggy.” 

It was unusual, to say the least, to listen to Gladiolus’ endless fountain of thanks, but Ignis nodded regardless. 

“We should, uh, come up with a story, huh?” Gladio said, shifting again. “You know how we….” 

“Fell hopelessly in love?” Ignis supplied with an amused smirk, letting his eyes drift to the notebook in his lap. Just because these were going to be the most awkward two weeks of his existence, didn't mean he had to let them ruin his mood. This could be some sort of fun. 

And, God forbid that the public actually enjoyed Gladiolus, Ignis could always use him in the future. It was best to gain his trust, for both his career and his sanity. 

“Are we in love?” 

“Do you usually take people you aren't in love with home to meet your family?” Ignis asked incredulously, feeling like an ass the moment it escaped his mouth. This was Gladiolus--girlfriend every other week and tabloid scandal quarterly. Ignis had only had one serious relationship in the past, and one very regrettable hookup; neither of them had made it home to meet his Uncle. He couldn't imagine anyone being that important. 

Gladio, to his credit, seemed unbothered. “Taken a few people home, no one I couldn't live without. I just don't know that my dad would buy me bein’, ya know, head over heels unless it was a--” 

“I've got the picture,” Ignis groaned. “But be aware that your father is familiar with me, and I wouldn't go home with someone I wasn't--” 

“Madly and painfully in love with?” Gladio grinned. 

“Someone I wasn't fond of,” Ignis remedied instead. “I'm well aware of my reputation, and I'm sure Mr. Amicitia won't believe I'd come all the way out into forest to meet the family of a fling.” 

Gladio nodded, his thick eyebrows furrowed over his amber eyes. “That's fair. How long have we been dating then?” 

“When was the last time you saw your father?”

Gladio whistled low. “April, maybe? No, March. Spring break.” 

“Since April then,” Ignis decided, scribbling that down on his notepad for future reference. “And how did we meet?” 

“At the gym?”

Ignis gave Gladio a withering look. “Why not stick with believability? We do run in the same social circle; we both know Noctis.”

“We got close at a party?” 

“That's better,” Ignis said with an encouraging grin, his ballpoint working rapidly across the thin page. 

“You held my hair back when I puked?” 

“Back pedal.” 

“I spilt vodka on my shirt and you knew some pinterest hack on out to get the smell out.”

Ignis pursed his lips, seeming to consider it. “It's unfortunately not awful. Let's go with that.” 

“And when I had my shirt in the dryer, you just couldn't contain yourself at the sight of my bare--” 

“Save the embellishments for your erotica, will you, Gladiolus?” Ignis called dryly, watching in horror as Gladio exited again off the interstate; so, this was their stop. “I asked you out on a sensible date, you said yes, and we've been dating ever since. It really is that simple.”

“Okay,” Gladio said slowly, the truck beginning to slow a bit as it rolled into a gated neighborhood. There was a stiffness across Gladio's shoulders that Ignis recognized too well; he'd seen the same anxiety plague Noct as they flew into the capital to visit his father. 

Ignis had always had a distaste for political dynasties, but there was something painful to be said for the sons who lived in the shadows of their fathers. There was no intimacy to it, nothing that felt like home. 

Ignis hadn't lived with his parents through his adolescence, and, in part, he was glad for it; it kept from shattering the illusion that they might've been happy, unlike the others. 

Even the tabloids revealed that Gladiolus and Clarus were endlessly at odds, and Ignis had seen the man throw things during more than one cabinet meeting. He couldn't imagine her was the nurturing type, and, from what TMZ reported, Gladiolus’ mother hadn't been much better. 

“What pet names are good for you?” Gladiolus mused, causing Ignis to nearly choke against his seat belt. 

“I've never used pet names,” he said, despite the back of his brain taunting him with the image of an old boyfriend whispering sweet words against the column of his throat. So much for repressing that. 

“Well, I've never not,” Gladio chuckled tactlessly. “Dad's gonna know something is up.” 

Ignis wrinkled his nose. “Do make it tasteful? I'm not going to respond kindly to anything horrendous.” 

“Sugar lips is out of the question, then?” 

“I sincerely hope you're joking.”

Somewhere along the line, the houses blurring by the sides of the road started to come less and less, surrounded by thick forest pines and visible power lines, transforming from reasonable two stories into full-blown mansions. 

The Amicitia house was no exception. 

Gladio's truck must've looked comical coming up the winding half mile drive, but the wrought-iron gate swung open for him without hesitation; the gilded bird of prey adorning it looked familiar. 

The Amicitia mansion was something out of Better Homes and Gardens, clearly styled after a plantation home and painted a unique and original off-white with a red door. Classy, and clearly done by a heterosexual woman in her late forties. 

A garage located behind the main house was where they abandoned Gladio's mangey truck and slung bags over their shoulders. 

It wasn't an image Ignis ever thought he'd find himself apart of; he and Gladio, one of them in well worn jeans and a hoodie, the other in neatly pressed khakis and a wool coat, trekking up to Gladio's home with his weekend bag over one shoulder and his black oxfords tramping over mud and forgotten pine needles, their breath fogging the air before dissipating in the wind. 

He was more surprised when Gladio reached out and effortlessly twined their fingers together, smiling nervously. 

“Just in case they're watching from the house.”

“Please don't get overzealous with the PDA,” Ignis warned, but masked his features with one of adoration, smiling shyly near Gladio's neck. 

Six, when did he become this sort of political monster? 

Actually, nevermind, let's scratch that from the record. 

The massive back porch to the house was enchanting, but mainly Ignis spent most of his time there stomping his boots against the wood and attempting to get warm while Gladiolus fumbled with his key ring. A voice in his brain said that he should probably be huddled against Gladio, but he wasn't sure he cared that much. Ignis was still Ignis after all, and he couldn't imagine, even in whatever alternate universe he'd entered, that Ignis would be nuzzling his nose against Gladio's throat because he found him just that enchanting. 

They didn't spend too much time fumbling around due to Gladio's incompetence, because the door swung open swiftly, making Ignis stiffen at how quickly he had to reapply his kind boyfriend persona. 

The man at the door wasn't Clarus, thankfully, but an older gentleman Gladio clearly had failed to mention. 

Gladio smiled widely at him, wasting no time to lunge through the door to tackle the larger man, wrapping his arms around his waist and lifting him off the floor a bit. 

“Welcome home, sir,” the man laughed, patting Gladio in a signal to release him. 

“It's great to see you, uhh--” Gladio broke off realizing the man was smiling, clearly shocked at Ignis’ appearance in the doorway, slipping the door closed behind him. Gladio clearly his throat. 

“Ignis, this is Jared. He's like family.” 

Ah, the butler then. He'd be surprised that someone like Gladio would be so familiar with the staff, but then Ignis remembered he quite literally was the staff, and some of the things Noctis had asked of him were things they hadn't covered in his political science classes. 

“Jared,” Gladio was grinning, breathing a bit heavy. 

This was the moment were Gladio could lie, say Ignis was just a friend. Laugh it off, chicken out, and Ignis could be on his way to the mountains for the duration of break. 

He didn't. 

“This is Ignis Scientia. He's a family friend of the Caelum’s.” There was an audible pause where Gladio breathed in through his nose, clearly steadying himself to say something more, his brows furrowed low over his flitting amber eyes. “He's my fiance.” 

The hair on the nape of Ignis’ neck stood on end. 

That hadn't been discussed. That hadn't been agreed upon at all. 

Gladio was still standing anxiously, frozen, clearly waiting for a response from the older man, who was blinking rapidly between the two of them as more horror dawned upon Ignis. 

They had no bloody clue he was gay. 

Unless he wasn't gay. 

Oh no. 

Gladio didn't exhale until a wide smile spread across the man's face, his eyes twinkling with emotion that immediately made Ignis uncomfortable as his gaze fell on him. 

“Is that so?” Jared grinned. “It's about time someone made an honest man out of him. Gladio is trying; you must be a saint.” 

Ignis chuckled politely, averting his gaze shyly to his feet. “Love is patient, as they say.” 

“You must be very, very patient, then,” Jared chuckled, causing Gladio to grumble aloud, despite grinning at the corners of his mouth, as if he were trying to hide it. 

“Enough dragging me, you're gonna scare him off,” he demanded, reaching out again for Ignis’ hand. Jared was beaming. 

The butler glanced up, and, Lord as his witness, winked at Ignis so raucously that he nearly blushed. 

“Be sure to find me later. I've got stories you'll want to hear.” 

Ignis couldn't help the chuckle that tore through his lips. He certainly wasn't going to pass up some hot gossip on Gladiolus. “I'll be sure to do that.” 

Jared nodded, before shifting to reveal a back hall Ignis hadn't paid much attention to upon their entrance. 

“You two much be tired after the long drive. Your father has had me turn down the guest room for you and your guest,” Jared winked again, until Ignis had to slide his gaze entirely to the floor. “Let me know if you need anything, Sirs.” 

“Course,” Gladio grinned, and slid his arm around Ignis’ waist, the warmth uncomfortable over all the layers he was wearing. “We can catch up later? Uh, is Dad--” 

“Your father and Miss Iris went to the city for the evening,” Jared grinned. “They wanted to give you two time to settle in. He said to be ready for breakfast in the morning.” 

Gladio nodded, stiff again, before dragging Ignis down the hall. 

The interior decorating was almost more abysmal than the patriotic exterior, Ignis decided. Whether it be the blindingly metallic magenta textured wallpaper lining the walls, or the odd statuettes of lambs and other religious iconography placed on shelving between doors that seemed to go on forever, Ignis wondered what he could drink to make him go blind for these next two weeks so that he wouldn't have to witness this.

They turned a corner, their wet shoes squeaking along the claret-toned hardwood, and Gladio released Ignis’ waist as if he'd been burned, stuffing the hand not holding his bag into the pocket of his jeans. Kind and considerate as always. 

Ignis found himself stomping to even keep up with Gladio as he opened a door, revealing a little wooden staircase that lead up to the second story. Ignis was huffing by the time they'd landed in the guest room, Gladio locking the door behind them. 

He fell against the wall, his hands covering his face as if to rub the mistake out if his brain.

“For the love of God, don't say it--” 

“Fiance?” Ignis screeched in a low voice. “Fiance? Are you actually insane, or do you wish for this plan to fail?” 

“I slipped up!” 

“Yes, clearly, sweetheart,” Ignis groaned, tearing his wool coat from his shoulders and throwing it over a surprisingly fashionable wingback chair. “You can't cover this up. We're going to have to march forward with this.”

“We'll need a new story--” 

“And that's on you,” Ignis reminded. “This was your mistake. I refuse to humiliate myself in front of your father--bloody hell, will you look at me when I'm speaking to you? What on earth has you so enraptured?” 

Gladio's gaze had shifted from glaring at his companion to something just behind him, Ignis turning to follow his gaze. 

The room wasn't spectacular, less personalized than the rest of the house to say the least. The walls were a neutral navy and the sheets on the bed were a plain grey. 

The issue wasn't the sheets. It wasn't the pillows, or the pretty vase of flowers on the bedside table; it wasn't even the his and hers pajamas folded neatly at the foot of the bed. 

It was the bed, period. One. One bed, intended for sharing. And it was a double. 

“Oh, _fuck_ me,” Ignis whined, throwing his head in his hands. 

“Ignis, we haven't even had dinner yet.” 

It was going to be a bloody long two weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suggest you Google Brit Milah to enhance your experience if you aren't familiar with the ceremony. Avoid Google images. 
> 
> Again, this is the last of the exposition, so the fun should start next chapter. 
> 
> Thanks again for staying to the end and, as always, comments and kudos are appreciated. Have a wonderful day ♡♡♡


	3. I Am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis chuckled again. “I'm afraid love isn't quite as whirlwind as it seems at fourteen. It's a bit deeper than that, more real.” 
> 
> “Yeah,” Iris groaned, rolling her eyes. “So, who tops?”

Ignis had been pleased that Gladiolus was gentlemanly enough to take the floor the first night, and with little complaints at that. He and Ignis had unpacked in relative peace, after Gladio had explained, no, he didn't have a room in this house anymore, so the smallest guest room was often the space designated for him when returned home. 

Ignis decided to be civil in response and not make a comment about the fact his father had felt the need to take away Gladio's room, most likely to repurpose it for something else, when they lived in a bloody mansion. So, the strained relationship with his father was an exaggeration of the press. It was true. 

Gladio, anxious as he felt and sore as his ass was from laying on the cold floor all night while Scientia--who slept like the fucking dead until five am sharp--counted sheep without issue, couldn't quite bring himself to care about his slip up yesterday. It made things a bit more complicated, to say the least, but, in a way, it made him seem older. More serious. 

He should've said that to begin with. 

That being said, Ignis was still bitching about the parapraxis the next morning as the two of them danced around in the en suite guest bath. Gladio was appalled to suddenly find the granite countertop around the sink entirely consumed by little pink tins of salve and sleek, black bottles of sprays, leaving Gladio grunt “which one is the fucking soap?” everytime he had to go take a piss. 

“You know this ain't a job interview, right?” Gladio said later as Ignis knotted a claret colored tie around his throat, scowling at himself in the mirror that had Gladio wondering if he'd brought home a serial killer instead of the advisor to the president's son. “It's just breakfast. Leave the sport coat, and lose the tie. While you're at it, take the stick out of your ass. You're supposed to be in love, remember?”

Ignis looked himself over for a moment, rubbing a pale hand across his jaw as if to feel for stubble, before unknotting his tie and hanging it over the towel rack neatly. He tossed Gladio a withering smile. 

“I thought the point was to impress your father? I'm only trying to be an attractive trophy husband for you.” 

Ignis’ affect was so painfully flat, it felt out of place to laugh at his jokes--if he was joking, that is. 

“Trophy husband?” 

Ignis made a noise of affirmative as he turned away from Gladio again, clearly tired of looking at him--Gladio was without a shirt again this morning, mostly to fuck with Ignis, but also to shut him up because apparently the man had some sort of nipple phobia--turning back to the mirror to examine his own appearance with an exasperated expression. 

“ _Honestly,_ Gladiolus, I cannot be both the brains and the body of this operation. Your father knows I'm not stupid enough to fall for you; I'm out of your league.” 

Gladio nearly choked on his own tongue, tripping over the long hem of his sweatpants as he stood, ready to combat with a hopefully witty comeback--

But then Ignis turned, chin ducked low to glare, and his hip swiveled, cocking quicker than a pistol with his hand perched on his waist. His head was tilted as if to say _yes? Go on, I'm listening._

Gladio's tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth. 

He wracked his brain, trying to summon up the image of anyone arguing with Ignis. Noctis, of course, came to mind, but Ignis wiped the fucking floor with his pasty hot topic ass without even trying. 

Maybe it was best to pick his battles. 

Gladio ducked his chin. 

Ignis only half tried to bite back on his smug fucking smile, his eyes twinkling behind his sleek glasses. “I'm glad to see you agree with me. Aren't we just the perfect couple?” 

_Asshole._

“While you're being docile, do put on a shirt?” 

Gladio surprisingly had the ego strength to stop himself from getting stark naked and jumping on the bed, and just agreed, reaching for the hoodie he'd laid out on the bed--until he had a thought. 

Ignis’ clothes were already neatly put away in the drawers of their dark wood dresser, organized by type and color, along with the corresponding BDSM straps (re: suspenders, garters, and shirt stays, like the ninety year old man he was) in true Ignis fashion. There was a wide necked sweater he'd seen him wear before, usually over a cotton button up, only when he was absolutely freezing. It made Ignis look like a poor college girl who haunted used bookshops for older men, but, on Gladio, he looked a bit more like a vogue model. 

“What do you think you're doing?” Ignis hummed from the doorway, hip still cocked, as Gladio pulled the emerald sweater down over his black undershirt. The collar didn't come close to falling off his shoulder, not like it did on Ignis, but it offered a wide view of his clavicle, and the top part of his chest, leaving the straps of his tank top and the beads of his necklace visible against the dark of his skin. 

Gladio could feel his face splitting from the grin, spinning on the balls of his feet to grin at the grump. “Wearing my boyfriend's clothes?” 

“It's too short on you,” he said immediately, pushing his glasses up on his nose. At some point, he'd replaced the leather gloves back on his hands. “And it's meant to be worn over another shirt. You're going to freeze.” 

Rubbing his arms, Gladio shrugged, grinning at the floor. “Feels pretty warm to me. And it matches your _dreamy_ eyes.” 

Ignis regarded him for a moment, breathing deeply, and Gladio waited to get K.O.’d into oblivion by some savage comeback--But Ignis just sighed, turning back into the blinding lights from the bathroom. “Shut the fuck up and change your pants. You can't wear joggers with a sweater.” 

\----

It took Ignis nearly thirty minutes to get ready in the morning, and, surprisingly, it made him seem more human than he had before. The fact that Ignis woke up with morning wood, bed head, and bad breath was refreshing; he really wasn't that perfect after all. 

Ignis, true to his word, looked like the perfect boyfriend--fuck, fiance--in his relaxed khakis and and sky blue button up, the buttons closed nearly to his throat, instead of halfway down his pasty-ass chest like he usually did. Sure, his suspenders made him look a little dorky, and his hair was a constant disaster, but halfway down the hall Ignis had reached out, looping his arms around Gladio's, clutching at his bicep and reclining his cheek against his shoulder, and somehow, Ignis sold their charade in seconds. 

Gladio didn't even worry about believability anymore, Ignis’ performance was just that good. Gladio had asked him about it yesterday, how he'd been able to turn on that lovey-dovey spout he'd turned on for Jared--he didn't bring up that the advisor was almost always insincere, and amazingly so, able to mask his emotions constantly in favor of facade. 

_“How'd you do that anyway? It was impressive.”_

_“I was involved with my school's drama program. When I was fourteen, I had the lead in Romeo and Juliet.”_

_“You were Romeo? Seriously? I've seen pictures of you at fourteen, Iggy, and no offense, but, uh.”_

_“Actually, no, I played Juliet.”_

_Silence._

_“It was an all boys school.”_

So, maybe Ignis didn't look like all the girls he'd brought home before. It didn't matter, because Ignis clutching tight to his arm felt so real, even Gladio forgot for half a moment they were lying. 

“Deep breaths,” Gladio murmured against Ignis’ hair as they rounded the corner into the main part of the house, covering Ignis’ hand with his own. The words were more for his own sake, but Ignis nodded regardless. Gladio was horrified to realize their entire faux story had vanished from his skull. 

To his relief, their dining room was empty, meaning the rest of the house was either still asleep, or vacated for the day. 

A brief crash from the kitchen let him know he was wrong. 

“Everyone okay?” Gladio called, dragging Ignis by the arm into the next room, blinking in the harsh fluorescent lighting while taking in the disaster zone that had become their kitchen. 

Standing in the middle of it all was Iris, her hair pulled apart in twin pigtail, stumpy against the nape of her neck. Her nightgown was thick flannel, printed pink with lace at the hem of her neck and wrists, her pale legs raised up on her tiptoes, splattered with a blue goo that made Gladio's stomach turn. 

Her eyes got wide when she saw Gladio, taking off at a sprint and splattering the goo against the cabinets as she went. Ignis released Gladio's hand and pressed himself against the door, most likely to remove himself from the splash zone. 

“Gladdy!” 

“Do not hug me until you tell me whatever the fuck is all over your legs--!” he accused, holding out his arms, but Iris smashed against him anyway. Thankfully, Ignis’ sweater was saved from the massacre’s gore, but Gladio's skinny jeans weren't so lucky. 

“Iris,” Gladio grumbled, but wrapped his arms around her waist anyway, lifting her effortlessly and spinning. “The heck do you think you're doing in here? You've destroyed the kitchen. You better clean this up before Jared kicks your butt.” 

She frowned, pouting her little doll mouth and furrowing her brows in a way that had Ignis choking on his laughter--he'd seen photos of Iris before, but he also remembered Noctis complaining about running from her at social events where she was desperate to be near him. She seemed endearing, though, equally as stubborn as Noct. 

She also seemed like she had all two hundred and fifty pounds of Gladio wrapped around her pretty ring finger, and Ignis looked forward to watching this teenager drag his ass across the floor. 

“It's not that bad,” she argued sheepishly, reaching for a nearby towel to wipe off her legs. 

Gladio snorted. “We could declare this an act of God and get a write off next tax season.” 

Iris pouted again, looking angry. “You don't have to be a jerk, you know. I was only trying to make breakfast for you and your….” 

The words died in her throat as her head swiveled comically, her eyes coming to rest on Ignis. 

Ignis wasn't necessarily scared of a lot of things. There wasn't much he didn't know, wasn't much he couldn't learn. He wasn't scared of tests at school. He wasn't scared of public speaking in a room full of distinguished men twice his age. He wasn't scared to hold Noct through the night as he cried about how hopeless he felt in this world. He wasn't scared when he sat on the front row of his parent's funeral, when they sent him to live with his uncle, when his uncle sent him away to private school. 

The look in the eye of a teenage girl just seconds before she was about to jump you? 

Yeah, Ignis was terrified. 

Iris’ smile was blinding as she scrambled off the counter, tripping over her nightgown on her way to Ignis, who was still pressed against the door and wide eyed as Iris practically _launched_ herself across the room at warp speed. 

“You're his fiance,” she grinned, stopping just feet before him, losing her balance and stumbling forward, nose to nose with him. “You're Ignis. You're going to be my brother-in-law.” 

Ignis’ brain was running too slowly for him to process. He'd brought a case of ebony with him, and he'd downed one in the shower, but part of him still felt a twitch of caffeine withdrawal as this teenager leaned over him with eager eyes. 

“Yes,” Ignis smiled, schooling his features back into the hopeless romantic persona he intended on adopting for this trip. He held out a hand to her. “And you're Iris Amicitia. I hear you're the top of your class at school.” 

Her grin wasn't at all little girlish, more wolf to it than anything. “Just like Gladdy! Can't let him beat me at everything. I'm getting close to beating his weight lifting score, too. I'm only sixty pounds behind, but I'm sure I'll get it before I graduate. I'm tired of looking at his name on the board everyday when I work out.” 

Ignis blinked, the persona flickering a bit, but Iris didn't notice. He wasn't sure what was more shocking; the fact that Iris, fourteen and noodle limbed could supposedly beat out the wall of raw muscle that was her brother, or the fact that Gladiolus had been the top of his class. 

Ignis just grinned rakishly and hoped it was charming. “My money's on you. It's about time someone knocked him down a peg.” 

Iris giggled, tossing her hair to smile back her brother, who was wiping blue batter off the cabinets. “Oh, I like him. He knows you're a pussy.” 

Ignis spluttered, glad that Iris wasn't looking at him as Gladio cut her a withering look. 

“Dad would kick your butt if he heard you say that in front of a guest; and don't embarrass me in front of my fiance.” 

Iris giggled, turning back to Ignis conspiratorially. “Don't let the nice guy act fool you. He swears like a sailor.” 

Ignis chuckled as Iris threw him a wink, his heart rate slowing to normal. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Noct at fourteen had been much the same. 

“What were you attempting to make?” Ignis asked as Iris turned back to her work, staring forlornly at a bowl of powdered goo, looking hopeless. 

“Blueberry pancakes? I messed up somewhere, I think.” 

Ignis smiled encouragingly again, stepping into the kitchen, careful to avoid the messy floor in his Italian leather loafers. 

“Would you mind dreadfully if I took a look? Oh, dear, this isn't so bad. I believe it could be salvaged after all--if you don't mind my assistance.” 

“Not at all,” Iris sighed in relief, her whole body dropping dramatically--Yeah, she was definitely related to Gladio. “I'd really appreciate it actually.” 

Ignis nodded, getting busy digging around for a skillet, before realizing what an utter atrocity the city proved to be. Under the blue goo Iris had splattered, the kitchen was dreadfully pink, much like the rest of the home. From the wall paper, to the lace of the drapes, the mugs on the rack, and the towels on the stove, everything was a horrifying shade of magenta that made Ignis wish he'd left his glasses at home. 

He'd never expected Gladio, Mr. Toxic Masculinity himself, would ever come from something like this. 

“What do you see in my brother, anyway?” Iris asked after Ignis had shown her how to flip a pancake in the air--she was surprisingly good at it. Gladio caught his eye from where he leaned against the countertop, where he'd been watching the two of them in silence. He averted his gaze to the floor. 

“Well,” Iris amended. “Besides the obvious.” 

“Iris!” 

Ignis winced into the frying pan, wishing his blush didn't begin on the very visible nape of his neck. He made himself clear his throat, but didn't look up from his work, flipping a pancake with a spatula this time, instead of letting Iris have a go again. 

“Your brother is wonderful,” Ignis said in his best attempt at sincerity. “I wish you knew how much.” 

Iris appeared at his side, regarding him for a moment, and for a minute, Gladio half wondered if Iris could see through the whole facade. Ignis kept his cool, however, offering up a pancake on her plate. 

“Bo-ring,” she yawned, leaning against the counter with a hip. 

Ignis chuckled again. “I'm afraid love isn't quite as whirlwind as it seems at fourteen. It's a bit deeper than that, more real.” 

“Yeah,” Iris groaned, rolling her eyes. “So, who tops?” 

_“Iris!”_

“What! It's a decent question! You've never brought home a guy before.” 

That got Ignis’ attention immediately. 

Iris blinked in the scene of Ignis whipping his head to stare at Gladio, and Gladio pulling sheepishly on the green sweater that obviously didn't belong to him. 

“Oh, fuck,” she grumbled. “I'm really sorry, I just figured he'd told you.” 

Ignis smiled, more stiff than necessary, turning his attention back to the pancakes. 

“I'm flattered, really,” he lied, giving Iris a grin. “I wasn't aware I was the first.” 

Iris fidgeted in her seat, feeling a bit guilty. “You aren't mad, then, that he's brought home girls before?” 

Ignis chuckled. “They aren't here now, are they?” 

Iris relaxed a bit, staring at her pink china plate. “No.” 

“And I am,” Ignis grinned, more believably now--Gladio really was impressed. “That's the thing you'll learn when you get older: people are going to have loved people before you. Gladio dated before me, and I've dated before him, but it doesn't matter when you're the only two people in the room.”

Iris smiled as Ignis slid a few more pancakes onto her plate. “No wonder Gladio's so in love with you. You talk like one of his porno books.” 

“Hey!” Gladio yelled out as Ignis chuckled, holding a plate out to his fiance with an amused twinkle in his eye. “Who said I was in love with him anyway?” 

Iris laughed maniacally. “Jared wouldn't stop talking last night about how you two look at each other. Said you couldn't keep your hands off him.” 

“Mm,” Gladio said, feeling his face flame a little at the suggestion. Ignis was still looking at him with that barely restrained smirk, before knocking him with his hip in a way that had Iris rolling with laughter. 

He hesitated for just a moment, reaching out with his gloved hand to place it on Gladio's elbow, lifting himself up on tiptoes to press a chaste kids against his jaw, the scruff on Gladio's cheeks scratching unpleasantly against Ignis’. 

“Ewww!” Iris whined. “Get a room, you two! I'm trying to eat!” 

Gladio smiled down at Ignis regardless, feeling warm all over with the heat trapped between their bodies, wrapping his arms around Ignis’ waist. “You're just jealous I have a super hot fiance and you don't.” 

“It's bad enough you're wearing each other's clothes,” she grumbled, before stuffing her mouth full of pancakes. The groan she let out was something Ignis would rather not hear an underage female make again. “Ugh, Ignis, this is the shit! How'd you fix this?” 

Gladio chuckled. Was this too long to be holding Ignis, who was still looking up at him with those faux adoring eyes? “Iggy's a bombass chef. He makes Noct weed brownies every weekend.” 

Ignis solved his problem by shoving Gladio so hard his body hit the fridge, plate long forgotten on the counter. “I certainly do not!” 

“You're friends with Noct?” Iris screeched, making Ignis glad he'd only ever looked after boys before. 

“They're best friends,” Gladio grunted, rubbing at his shoulder. “And, for the record, no weed brownies have ever been made by those gorgeous hands.” 

“Shut up,” Ignis grumbled, his face in it's usual scowl. 

The whole scene was oddly domestic, despite being the most awkward hour of Gladio's life. Ignis, for all his robotic programmings, seemed at ease with Iris, and was good at making her laugh. He fit in better with Gladio's family than Gladio himself did. 

The sound of a door slamming in the next room disrupted the scene, the three of them snapping their heads up in unison. 

“That's probably Jared with the groceries,” Iris said, bounding off her stool and headed for the door. “I'll help him.” 

Ignis let out a monstrous sigh the second the door clicked shut, stepping away from Gladio to place his head in his hands. 

“Do you think she bought that?” Gladio whispered, causing Ignis’ neck to snap at the speed he turned to glare. 

“You've never brought home another man?” Ignis hissed, reaching out to grab the front of Gladio's--well, Ignis’--green sweater with a fist. “Do you even like men?” 

“That's kinda a personal question, Iggy.” 

Ignis laughed mirthlessly, carding a hand through his immaculate hair. “This is crazy. Of course, just when I start to think maybe you aren't a moron, you have to go and prove me wrong. You might've mentioned you weren't gay when you begged me to come here.” 

“I never said I wasn't,” Gladio said back. “This is day fucking two, can we not fight? Why do you care so much?” 

“Aren't you terrified of getting caught, or have you not thought this through? My reputation is at stake, Gladio, or don't you care?” 

“Ignis, dude, I promise I--” 

The door sounded again, and Gladio immediately bounded into action. 

Reaching out with both hands to cup the back of Ignis’ neck was much easier than untangling Ignis’ fists from his sweater, much quicker, and, well--it got the message across. 

Ignis huffed a bit into the kiss when Gladio slammed his mouth down. It was by no means decent--Ignis, again, wondered why women were tripping over themselves to get to this man--until Gladio relaxed, slowing down considerably, using his thumb to push away the stray strands of hair of Ignis’ face. 

Ignis let his hands wander, once the shock had subsided, tangling up in the undergrowth of Gladio's ponytail as Gladio's hands slid lower, kneading gently into Ignis’ back.

It wasn't terrible, all things considered. Ignis only had a handful of people to compare it to--and he wasn't sure if Gentiana when they were sixteen even counted, considering how bad they both thought it was. Gladio, who by all accounts should've been rough and domineering, was tender and considerate--or at least pretended to be.   
Between the fabric of the black tank and the green collar of the sweater was several inches of undisturbed tanned skin, lines of ink mapping across it, and Ignis let his hands trail down to trip over the lines. 

The door to the kitchen opened. 

Gladio clung a bit tighter, before Ignis pushed them apart, ducking his head against Gladio's chest a bit shamefully. 

What was that? 

Gladio kept his hand on the back of Ignis’ neck, another on his hip, and Iris let out a low whistle, but there was a sudden tension in the air that hadn't been there moments before. 

“Gladiolus.” 

Ignis’ stomach sunk. He knew that voice. 

Gladio stiffened against him, drawing his arm protectively around Ignis’ waist. “Hey, dad.” 

When Ignis chanced a glance at the doorway, he was surprised to find Clarus Amicitia looking exactly like he'd seen him before. All business like, his suit pressed and formal, his countenance a stern frown, even with Iris clinging to his arm in a fond way. 

“Son,” he addressed. “Would you like to explain what's going on here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters aren't coming out quite like I expected/hoped, but I'm determined to finish this fic before Christmas is over. 
> 
> Thanks so much for all the sweet comments, and thanks for reading to the end! As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated, and have a great day ♡♡♡


	4. You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How do I fix it?” 
> 
> Taken aback, Ignis spent a good few moments studying Gladiolus before he could determine what he meant. 
> 
> “Pardon?” 
> 
> “How do I kiss you right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll this erased TWICE. I need a very long nap. 
> 
> Thanks for all the feedback last chapter! I'm glad everyone is enjoying this thus far!
> 
> *sips my tea* Slow burn? I don't know her.

Ignis had never built gingerbread houses before. 

Sure, Noct and Prompto had done it religiously every year since they were fourteen (re: Prompto built Buckingham Palace out of frosting and candy canes, and Noct ate the entire thing before the night was over, all whilst not gaining a single pound), but Ignis had never partook in their games. 

When Iris had demanded that Ignis help her construct some to put on display, he welcomed the distraction, applying gumdrop shingles to the roof with precision. 

Iris worried at her lip so hard skin was starting to peel. “What do you think they're talking about?” 

Ignis took in a deep breath. What Gladio had done was more than impressive--asking with a cool confidence to speak to Clarus alone in the next room. 

Ignis wouldn't have minded a real boyfriend ready to do that for him.

“My sudden and mysterious appearance, I suppose,” Ignis grinned, attempting to be light hearted, despite the fact he couldn't make out the whispers from beyond the door anymore. 

Iris smiled grimly back. “I dunno if Gladdy told you, but he and my dad don't get along--which is dumb, because Gladdy isn't stupid and Daddy isn't mean, not like the tv makes them seem.” 

Ignis knew he shouldn't pry, but, “Why do you think that is?”

Iris shrugged, squeezing more icing and managing to land a glob right into her lap. She'd changed out of her pajamas into light wash jeans a pink sweater, her hair brushed out in the same stringy strands Gladio always sported.

“He, uh, told you about Mom leaving, right?” 

Ignis should've been honest and said no, but he'd remembered the less than kind tabloid reports of the situation when he'd been private school. He nodded. 

“It was about when Gladdy was in highschool. I was little, so I don't remember much, but Daddy was real torn up about it. They always fought. I still remember once, Daddy got onto him for speaking to me in Spanish, said we weren't gonna do it anymore, so we don't. I think it just reminds him of Mom, makes him upset.” 

Ignis helped Iris scrub the icing off her lap best he could, scooping the excess into the trash, before returning to make a candy cane fence around their house. 

“I wasn't aware your mother was Hispanic.”

Iris nodded excited. “Yeah. I know it's funny, right, considering how vocal Dad is on immigration issues, but, yeah. She still calls sometimes, so it's not like she's absconded off to no where, but the whole situation is still shitty. Gladio took it hard. He doesn't take her calls.” 

Ignis nodded again. That was more than understandable. 

“And you?” 

Iris shrugged. “I was young, so I don't remember her. I mean, I'm not--” she paused, glaring a hole at the gingerbread man between her dark palms. “It's a shitty situation. But Daddy and Gladdy really are the best. And now we've got you, too.” 

Iris reached out to squeeze Ignis’ gloved hand, making Ignis’ stomach twist uncomfortably as Iris smiled up at him. “I'm really excited, just so you know, to have you as my brother. It doesn't bug me, ya know--” 

“That I'm gay?” Ignis grinned, making Iris look away. “I'm aware of your father's stance on the subject, but I'm afraid it didn't cross my mind when I agreed to come home with Gladio for the holidays after he invited me.” 

“You're nervous.” 

“But I don't regret coming,” Ignis said with a smile, pressing a gumdrop to Iris’ nose as she giggled. “You know, I've never made a gingerbread house before, _a-chot_.” 

Her dark eyes went wide behind her heavily mascaraed lashes. “You're kidding! We gotta--” 

The door swung open again, and Ignis immediately stiffened his posture until arms wrapped around him from behind, a kiss pressed to his cheek. 

He'd need to take a break soon. It was getting uncomfortable constantly playing the lovestruck idiot, and he wasn't sure how many more times he could smile when Gladio felt him up in front of other people. PDA had never been his thing. 

“How'd it go?” he murmured as Gladio released him, watching the larger man sink into the seat beside him. He shrugged, albeit looking a bit more tired. 

“Took care of it.” 

Iris was frowning at him, reaching across the table to pour a glob of icing onto his hand. “You didn't fight, did you?” 

Without hesitation, Gladio reached up and smeared the icing across Ignis’ cheek, making any and all sympathy for the larger man dissolve. Apparently Ignis was making an amusing face, because Iris had to duck away to hide her giggles, falling to the floor dramatically. 

“Thank you,” Ignis sighed, his glare seeming to not scare Gladio as much as it had the day before. He took care to remove the icing from his cheek, keeping the goo cradled in his hand until he could dispose of it without making a mess. 

Gladio was smirking, doubtless pissing Iggy off, leaning in close to chuckle mischievously. “You look good with that mess on your face. Makes you look like a real person.”

Iris wasn't even watching them, and it was spoken low enough there was no way she could've heard them. Ignis cocked an eyebrow. 

“Do me a favor and simply ask next time? It'll save us the mess,” Ignis grinned wolfishly, watching Gladio's amber eyes spark. 

“Where's the fun in that?” 

His eyes, despite seeming tired under it all, skimmed over Ignis rakishly in a way that if they'd been somewhere else, if he'd been someone else, Ignis would've melted--he'd done it before and he'd do it again, but Gladio was doing this because they had an audience, and Ignis braced himself for the inevitable when Gladio would lean forward and brush his lips to collect the leftover frosting dusting his cheeks, the scent of his aftershave still palpable. 

Gladio's mouth was half way down his neck before Iris cleared her throat, leaning red-faced against the counter with her arms folded, glaring in an amused way. Ignis had the decency to flush--this certainly how he wouldn't have done a holiday visit, but he had no qualms about letting Gladio run the show. 

Especially if he was going to run it like _that_. 

“God, this is the worst you've ever been,” Iris grumbled. “Not that I can ever unsee you on top of Megan Whatsherface in the garage, but this is so mushy that it's disgusting.” 

Gladio just grinned again, pulling Ignis closer to his chest--it was alarming how second nature it was becoming, and that Ignis arguably didn't hate it--as Gladio pressed a quick, soft kiss against the corner of his mouth. 

Iris wrinkled her nose. 

“You really are in love,” she mused. “You kiss him different.”

Ignis arched an eyebrow. “Different how?” 

Iris shifted again, looking uncomfortable in her pastel kitchen, worrying at her lip glossed lips. 

“I dunno,” she shrugged after Ignis nodded in consent. “Gladio used to really slobber over other girls; he kisses you softer. I think it's a good thing, though! It's not like, ya know, he doesn't like you as much or anything--” 

“Iris,” Gladio barked. “Drop it?” 

Iris nodded, laying the bag of icing on the countertop as she exited the room. Ignis watched her go with an icy expression, Gladio's arms immediately withdrawing as if the touch had scalded him. They were alone again. 

“We need to talk.”

\----

Gladio was probably lucky Ignis hadn't choked him out by now. 

“--filming a bloody porno in the kitchen with your sister _right there_ \--”

Gladio, to his credit, did his best to drown him out as Ignis stomped across the room, running into the bathroom to scrub at his face with cold water. 

“--honestly treat women like than and then come into this house and ask me to pretend--”

Gladio hadn't noticed before, until he was flopped back on the bed, but if he turned his head just right he'd be able to pick up a quick scent of Ignis’ old man cologne; he wasn't sure if it was the green sweater or the pillowcase. His ponytail was still a mess from where Ignis had pulled it apart--damn good Juliet. 

“--even listening to me, when I'm asking about your father, who just saw your entire slimy tongue go down my throat like I'm some thirsty twink you picked up--”

Gladio was fucking tired. There was something about having conversations with his dad, the topic of which always seemed to revert back to what a fuck up son he was, that made Gladio wanna curl up and sleep for the next decade or two. 

He usually would combat that with something punishing, a hundred push up till his arms ached and consumed his thoughts. 

Ignis, though. Ignis was a good distraction. 

“I know the effects of metabolic steroids are pernicious, but I'm almost positive they have no effect on your hearing.” Ignis was suddenly at the foot of the bed, hands on his hips and his glasses riding low on his nose. His expression was so tightly pinched Gladio imagined it had to be giving him a headache. “You're going to tell me what your father said, or I'm going to shove an entire Christmas tree up your ass.” 

“Sounds gay,” Gladio said, as if on reflex, causing Ignis to nearly pull his hair out. 

“I'm going to kill you,” he said very softly, as if to himself, running a gloved hand over his face. “I've never killed anyone, but I'm going to kill you, and we've only been here two days.”

Gladio rolled his eyes. If he'd known Ignis was such a drama queen, he wasn't sure he'd have brought him home. 

Okay, he would've, but he was desperate. 

Sliding across the bed to make room, he patted the space beside him. “Sit down before you have a stroke and I have to explain to Noct why you died a virgin.” 

“I think not,” Ignis snorted. “I've seen enough porn to know where that's going.” 

“What the fuck kinda porn are you watching?” 

“ _Gladiolus._ ”

“Right, dad, sorry, uh,” Gladio grumbled, scratching at the back of his head. “Dad split for the night, said he wanted me to think about how this would affect the family--” 

“Oh, bloody hell--” 

“But tomorrow night we're going to have a nice family dinner--plus you--to discuss my poor choices.”

Gladio was worried Ignis might actually have a stroke, the look he was giving him. “Did you know this was going to be an issue?” 

Gladio shrugged. “I, uh, I didn't. I knew it'd be weird, but I thought he'd be a bit more accepting. You should be thrilled to have the night off--” 

“So, you aren't gay, then?” Ignis asked, turning with his hands on his hips, pining Gladio to the bed with his glare. Iris’ words echoed around in his skull, pinging off the sides like a hailstorm. _You kiss him different._

“I didn't say that.” 

“This isn't up for discussion. I don't need gory details, I need to know what your family knows, and I need to know now, Gladiolus.” 

Gladio groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. 

“Just the stuff they know?” 

Ignis nodded stiffly. 

Gladio held out a hand, ticking off his fingers, “Angelica--I did actually like her, but she was way too fucking smart for me, and she was always pissed off about something. Megan was cute, but she mostly just pissed dad off. We had a lot of sex when she was here. Uhh, the only other two I brought home were Kady and, well, you remember what happened with Cindy.” 

Unfortunately, Ignis did, and would prefer not to relive that horror story. 

“And you've never told them you liked men? They had no inkling before this?” 

Gladio shrugged. “I wasn't even sure I really liked guys till college. Haven't dated one before. Done some hookups--” 

“Spare me the details, please,” Ignis groaned, finally perching on the edge of the bed with his back to Gladio. “I can't believe this. I can't believe you are this bloody stupid.” 

Gladio flinched. “I didn't expect him to be this much of an ass about it, okay?” 

“You should've told me!” 

Gladio did feel sorta shitty--Ignis clearly only came to get on Clarus’ good side, and this wasn't the way to do it. It was weird, being at school where everything seemed normal and okay, but then you came home and you remembered _oh, that's right, dad's an aggressive homophobe who doesn't like me to begin with._

Part of him knew that if it was Iris who had come out, he would've been understanding. That's just how the chips fell around here. Gladio swallowed. 

“Ignis, I really am sorry. I didn't think this was gonna be a huge deal. If you wanna go home….” Gladio wasn't gonna say it was okay, because it wouldn't be, not for either of them, but Ignis was already shaking his head, turning so that he faced Gladio, folding his knees at the foot of the bed. 

“I gave you my word and I intend to keep it, even if this is a right mess,” Ignis sighed. His hair was a mess, and somehow the top buttons of his shirt had found their way undone again, but he looked a bit more like the Ignis who haunted campus halls with a confident smirk, shadowing Noct and the others silently. 

“It's just rather odd,” Ignis said, as if to himself, his green eyes watching where his gloved hands were folded in his lap. “I'll admit I didn't expect the hostility. My family was rather understanding when I came out.” 

Gladio choked, coughing on his own air, watching Ignis go from calm to very unamused in less than .3 seconds through his bleary eyes. 

“You're _gay?_ ” 

Ignis blinked. “Are you honestly going to tell me that bothers you? Your tongue was down my throat an hour ago.” 

“No! It's just--I _kissed_ you.”

“Lord, give me strength,” he murmured, hands twitching at his lap. “I promise, despite the fact you seem to think you're some sort of irresistible Adonis, you've got no hold on me whatsoever. And, frankly, it was a shoddy kiss.” 

Iris’ words came back before he even had the time to be offended.

“That's what Iris said,” Gladio mumbled. 

“Yes, well, unfortunately when it comes to teenage girls--” 

“How do I fix it?” 

Taken aback, Ignis spent a good few moments studying Gladiolus before he could determine what he meant. 

“Pardon?” 

“How do I kiss you right?” Gladio said dumbly, leaning forward with his hands on his thighs. 

Ignis should say he refused to kiss him again, except in dire situations. Ignis should call him on the fact that they're alone in their room, in their bed, with no one to watch them. Ignis should bloody go home for the duration of the holiday and spend the rest of his professional life avoiding Gladiolus and trying to shake off the fact his hands were still tacky with his half washed out conditioner, a reminder that he'd had his hands fastened in Gladio's ponytail like the floor would fall out from under him just an hour before. 

But he doesn't. 

“For starters,” Ignis said slowly, straightening, attempting to make this as clinical as possible. “Keep your tongue out of my mouth. It's not a bloody treasure trove.” 

Gladio nodded. 

“How'd you kiss the other girls?” 

Gladio thought on that for a moment, before grinning like a Cheshire. “Quick.” 

“Quick as in chaste?” 

“Quick as in fast,” he clarified, watching Ignis’ expression fall. 

“Of course. I'd expect nothing less from a heterosexual college student, slobbering dog.”

“You don't have to be mean,” Gladio pouted, but Ignis just leaned against the foot of the bed, back braced against the wood, using a gloved hand to beckon Gladio forward with two fingers. 

“Let's get this over with, shall we? I do have things I'd like to do today.”

It should be embarrassing how eagerly Gladio crawls across the bed, wiping his hands on his jeans, because the whole room is suddenly warm. Ignis leaned away from him, but he's watching him out of the corner of his eye, entirely unamused. Gladio had only ever kissed one guy before--some twinky kid at a pub who looked freakishly like Prompto, which he preferred not to think about--and every other encounter he'd had...well, there hadn't been much kissing, per se. 

Gladio could do a lot worse than Ignis, he knew. He'd just never stopped to think about Ignis as a human being with feelings and lips and working reproductive organs before. 

Ignis was kinda pretty. 

“Do me a favor and don't get any enjoyment out of this,” Ignis grumbled, placing his leather clad fingertips very gingerly against Gladio's jaw to tilt his head just so. “If I think your shower is running long tomorrow I will tell everyone you're a pervert.” 

“Everyone knows that alread--ouch! Fuck, if you're gonna slap me, take your glove off!” 

“Shut up,” he said, smirking ruefully. “So, BDSM isn't your thing?” 

“Ignis--” 

“I said, shut up.” 

The kiss was different with Ignis leading. Gladio felt fourteen again, with his hands on his own knees as Ignis ghosted his mouth over his lower lip, careful and tender. The air between them was crackling with warmth, their breath providing more contact on the other than their own skin. 

Gladio had to bite back on a crack about how childish it felt, but Ignis’ eyes were screwed up tightly, his hands framing Gladio's jaw in a delicate way, and Gladio wondered if this wasn't juvenile, but something else entirely. 

Gladio thought he'd been in love once--the mushy, soul consuming kind that you thought about when you woke up and before you went to bed. They'd fought a lot, and she'd been angry, but the thing of it was, Gladio never remembered kissing like this. 

Being suddenly aware that Ignis was a person meant that Ignis also had emotions and histories, a possibility that he'd loved someone before, and kissed them like this. 

“Like that?” Ignis murmured, pulling his mouth away as Gladio chased after him. Ignis gave a pitiful smile as Gladio nodded. 

“Uh, yeah, great. Should we--” 

Ignis rose, already heading toward their bathroom. “I think that's enough for one day.” 

\----

Gladio gathered the nerve to ask Ignis if he'd ever been in love when they were watching the news a bit later, laying side by side in the bed with their arms tucked behind their heads. It was comfortable, albeit a bit awkward--Ignis still felt like a stranger in so many ways, because Gladio knew nothing about him. Ignis’ sweater was still hanging shamefully off Gladio's shoulder, the owner too lazy to have shed since they'd arrived back in their room. 

Ignis chuckled. “No, I don't think so.” 

“But you've been with guys before?” 

Ignis seemed to consider that for a long moment, before nodding hesitantly. 

“How many?” 

“Gladio.” 

“I showed you mine, you show me yours.” 

“You are an infant,” Ignis huffed, but it was almost fond, and the both of them were grinning at the ceiling, until Gladio turned on his hip to face him. 

“Two,” Ignis clarified. “And one awful kiss with Gentiana when we were teenagers.” 

“Two?” 

Ignis nodded, and, when met with silence, further clarified. “One...serious relationship, if you could call it that, that ended poorly and I don't wish to elaborate, and one regrettable hookup with a friend.” 

“Noct,” Gladio supplied immediately, that had Ignis sputtering comically and sitting up in bed, nearly ripping his shirt in the process.  
“Absolutely not! It was Pr--” 

By the time his hands were over his mouth, Gladio was already wide eyed and cackling. 

“Prompto! You dicked _Prompto_?!” 

Ignis threw his head in his hands, curling in on himself as Gladio laughed. “I'm not proud of it.” 

“Why?” 

“Opportunity, more than anything, I suppose,” Ignis cringed. “We agreed it was awful, and never did it again--why in the world are you reaching for your phone?”

Gladio chuckled as he punched the buttons on his screen rapidly. “Someone's gotta tell that twink he's in love with Noct--” 

“You certainly will not! You let those two figure that out on their own.” 

Gladio was still choking on his laughter when Ignis reached forward, grasping for his phone, the two of them tangled and dissolving into laughter as they both went boneless. Ignis, for propriety’s sake, rolling to the side, letting himself giggle into the pillow. 

He was suddenly aware how badly he wished Noct was here. 

“You aren't at all what I expected, ya know,” Gladio mumbled as their laughter died down. Ignis smiled softly. 

“I hear that a lot. Perhaps it's a sign you should hesitate before forming assumptions, hmm?”

Gladio hummed, pursing his lips. “Now that, I did expect. You are a know it all.” 

“I know better than you.” 

“That's probably true.” 

\----

Gladio went out for a run, and Ignis took the much needed alone time to call Noctis who has, per the norm, failed to check in. 

“Mmph,” came the garbled reply on the end that picked up, but Ignis didn't even stop to check to see if he'd dialed the wrong number. 

“It's three pm, Noct, do tell me you aren't asleep,” Ignis grinned, the mental imagine of the lazy boy already making him fond. 

“‘M takin’ a nap. Luna had me up at five in the fuckin’ morning to watch the sunrise.” 

So he wasn't making a total ass out of himself, then. “Good to see you're making at effort at romance. I'm proud of you.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Noct grumbled, the sounds of sheets rustling in the background. “I dunno why she didn't just take Prom. He was up, running and taking pictures. She likes him better anyway,” he added softly. Ignis pursed his lips. 

“I'm sure that's not true. She's fond of both of you.”

“But she's engaged to me.” 

“And you're in bed while she's off with Prompto,” Ignis reminded. “The way to remedy that is quite simple; get off your duff.” 

“You can't mother hen me all away across Insomnia,” Noct accused, but huffed back, a sound that Ignis assuming was Noct falling back against the mattress. “It's dumb without you here. I dunno what do.” 

Ignis frowned, sitting up in his own bed. “Would you like me to fly out there? All you have to do is ask, you know.” 

“No! Shit, Specs, I'm not your baby.” 

Ignis sighed. “I'm well aware, Noctis, but please consider I do what I do because you're my best friend--and don't say it back, because it isn't true.” 

Noct hummed lethargically again, making Ignis worry immediately. He wasn't feeling well, that much was obvious. Prompto was usually good about picking up at that sort of thing--Prompto also tiptoed around him to an alarming degree. 

“How's it up there with Cock McStuffins?” Noct asked, his grin audible. 

“We've discussed the swearing,” Ignis sighed. “And it's going fine.” 

“That's not what Iris said.” 

“You little brat,” Ignis accused fondly. “You ghost that poor girl most of your childhood and shake her down for info now?” 

Noct was chuckling on the other end. “Actually, she was asking about you. She's very excited to plan your wedding, Mr. and Mr. Amicitia.” 

“Do not encourage her,” Ignis whined. “I'd like to refrain from any permanent emotional or financial damage when Gladiolus and I break up.” 

“Don't care,” Noct mumbled on the other end. “Did you dick him yet?” 

“I'm not going to dick him!” 

“You aren't a bottom.” 

_“Noct.”_

“Something happened, because Iris won't shut up about how hot and heavy you two are,” Noct proded. “Don't you dare lie to me.” 

This had to be the lowest point in Ignis’ career. “We kissed, that's all.” 

“Gross!” Noct laughed. “He isn't paying you enough for this, my dude, yuck.” 

Ignis snorted. “Tell me about it. We're sharing a bed--stop laughing!” 

“I mean, I'm sharing a bed with Prompto.”

“That's different. You and Prompto are fond of one another.” 

“No we aren't!” 

“Oh, bloody no homo if it's that important,” Ignis grumbled. “Gladio's coming, I should go.” 

“Specs,” Noct gasped. “I don't care if you are bottoming, don't call me mid-coitus.” 

\----

Ignis purposefully didn't watch as Gladio toweled off his wet hair, or the way his white undershirt stuck to his skin post-shower. 

“Wait, wait,” Gladio said for the ninth time tonight. “I'm confused. If you two slept together, why is Prompto still scared of you?” 

“Because Prompto's a bottom,” Ignis said flatly, causing Gladio to drop his towel. 

“Gladio,” Ignis sighed. “I am joking.” 

“Oh. Right,” Gladio mumbled. “I don't get it. No one is scary after sex, because everyone looks ridiculous during sex.” 

“Perhaps you do,” Ignis smirked, stretched across the bed with a lazy expression. It was late now, and tomorrow they began preparations--not only for their dinner with Clarus, but for the rest of this abysmal holiday season. “Someone of us have class.” 

“Oh, whatever,” Gladio grumbled, brushing out his hair angrily, ripping out the tangles and stuffing it into a messy bun atop his head. Ignis was sort of peeved about the whole thing; no one as lazy as Gladiolus had the right so look so good in sweats and white t-shirt, especially with a nonexistent skin and hair care regimen. “I don't believe you.” 

“Convenient, that,” Ignis yawned, rolling over onto his side. “Considering you'll never find out.” 

Gladio tried a little too hard to keep his expression neutral. 

\----

“Why is it so bloody cold in here?” 

Gladio bit back on a snide remark from his place on the floor, listening to Ignis’ teeth clack against one another just above him. 

“Dad used to do this when I was a teenager,” Gladio grumbled. “Has Jared shut off the heat to this wing so you just suffer all night instead of sleep.” 

Ignis was silent. “You're joking.” 

“Fucking wish,” he growled from his place on the floor, the hardwood freezing against his hip. Gladio wished he hadn't thrown Ignis’ soft sweater into the hamper. “The only bedrooms in the main wing are Dad's and Iris’--my old one, too, but I think that's an in house gym, now.”

Ignis sighed. “So we tough out the night, then?” 

They'd divided up the blankets the first night--two for Ignis on the bed and two for Gladio on the floor, but they were doing very little to keep the both of them warm now. 

Ignis moved to the side without a second thought. 

“Well?” 

“What?” 

“Get up here before we die of hypothermia. Regis was right, your father is a savage, and not the good kind.” 

Gladio hesitated only half a second before he was crawling into the bed, reaching out immediately to tangle his legs with Ignis’ for warmth. 

“It's like the bloody 1930s in this house, are you aware of that?” 

“Do you say ‘bloody’ to sound pretentious, or do you really just have a potty mouth?” 

Ignis groaned. “Shut up and take first round as the big spoon before I catch pneumonia.” 

Gladio did hesitate this time, watching as the shorter man rolled over to face the wall, tucking his arms around himself. 

“Hurry up.” 

“Uh, right,” Gladio mumbled, jumping forward to loop his arms around Ignis’ ridiculously feminine waist, immediately feeling the warmth creep between their bodies, pleased that Ignis rolled back into the contact. 

“If you pop a boner right now, I will call the police,” Ignis threatened, causing Gladio to snort. 

“I apologize in advance on behalf of my dick--if I had any control over it, trust me, I'd avoid that whole situation.”

Shaking, Ignis placed his bare hands over Gladio's. “Do me a favor and think warm thoughts.” 

\----

Ignis was nearly asleep when Gladio nudged him with his thigh, his nose pressed in the crown of Ignis’ hair. It's weird. It should be weird. 

Somehow it felt kinda natural though. 

“What could you possibly want?” the man slurred as Gladio called his name again. 

“I had a dumb question.” 

“One that couldn't wait till morning?” Ignis whined, clearly half asleep already, making Gladio smile despite himself. 

“I just was wondering, since things are different now--” 

“Spit it out.” 

“Are we going to be friends after this?” he wondered, knotting his fingers in the fabric of Ignis’ sleep shirt. With his hair down and his glasses gone, Ignis looked a lot less terrifying. 

There was silence for a moment, and Gladio was only half worried he'd fucked something up royally, before Ignis slurred again. 

“If I don't kill you before this is all over?” Ignis mused. “I certainly don't see why not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for the Clarus troll last chapter; I promise he's in the next chapter and we'll get some plot in this binch instead of these two dicking around each other. 
> 
> Also I have no clue what's going on with Noct Luna and Prom they've taken on a life of their own and I'm gonna let ya'll interpret that anyway you want lol 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated and thanks so much for reading to the end! Have a great weekend ♡


	5. You Were

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio didn't know anything about Ignis. 
> 
> He wanted to. Fuck, he wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Sorry this fic wasn't done before Christmas, but it should be done before the new year. I'll probably do another Christmas Gladnis one-shot (eventually) at least before the next semester starts. 
> 
> That being said WARNING for this chapter; heavy stuff ahead (we're talking homophobia, mentions of character death, bad family situations overall and a lot of religious themes; if that's not your cup of tea you know what to do) 
> 
> For those of you that stay to the end, I figured I should add a little gift ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) happy holidays ya'll

“Relax,” Gladio reminded him for the thousandth time as Ignis made a groaning sound from their bathroom, following by a heavy clanging clash of a metallic origin. If Gladio had to guess, he'd assume Ignis had thrown his hair gel tin at the wall. 

Sometime around five am, the two of them had woken up, bodies tacky with sweat and hands numb, realizing simultaneously that the heat had kicked on at some point in the night, despite the fact that Gladio's body rested entirely on Ignis, the smaller man's hands wrapped around his large frame, nearly cradling him. They'd broken apart instantly, Ignis murmuring apologies and Gladio throwing out some half hearted flirt that had them both rolling back to back, but Gladio never made his retreat to the floor. 

Besides the awkward morning, it had been a good night. 

“I can't _relax,_ ” Ignis grunted, immediately echoed by a dull thud and a howl of pain. Probably stubbed his toe on the corner. “Bloody--your father is a maniac, do you understand that? Is he going to pull Guantanamo Bay tactics like that tonight at dinner?” 

Gladio shrugged, shamelessly rooting around in Ignis’ drawers for another sweater, frowning when all he found were cardigans that were most likely too small for him. There was a cream colored one that looked as though it were designed to be oversized--it might fit over one of Gladio's thermals. 

“Maybe?” Gladio mumbled. “Most likely he’ll feel bad, pretend it didn't happen, and move on to convincing us to break up. I wish we could lie and tell him you were pregnant.” 

Ignis spun in the bathroom, peeking at him with messy hair and dark-rimmed eyes.

“Do you often get compliments for your jokes, Gladiolus?” 

“No.” 

“Good,” Ignis grunted, turning back to the bathroom with more crashing scored underneath him. 

“You aren't a morning person, are you?” Gladio mused, stretched out on the bed with a lazy smile. It was fun to watch Ignis, who, just days ago had seemed pressed and bookish, put together and practically perfect in everyway proceed to fall apart at the seams at every minor inconvenience, like he was a time bomb. 

It was funny. Gladio was having a great time.   
“I am when I'm not _out of my bloody coffee,_ ” Ignis snapped, finally exiting the bathroom with his hair in limp disarray and his glasses skewed. “Where's my cap? It's not worth the effort to fix my hair today.” 

Gladio fixed Ignis with an expression of faux concern. “Do you want me to take you to your AA meeting, hon?” 

“Hilarious.” 

“Your drinking problem is tearing this family apart. If you aren't careful, I'll get custody of Noctis and Prompto, and neither of us want that.” 

Ignis didn't say much else, but Gladio watched from the bed as he tucked his crisp button up in the waist of his jeans, using one of his lithe hands to push his stringy bangs out of his eyes. 

“You look good casual,” Gladio supplied conversationally, nodding to Ignis as the man pushed his knit skull cap down over his head, carefully slicking his bangs to side, before plucking his suspenders up over his shoulders. “I'd kill to see you in a t-shirt and shorts.” 

“I don't own shorts,” Ignis grumbled curtly, beginning to reach for his peacoat before he seemed to think better of it, turning to glare at Gladio behind his glasses with thin eyes. 

“Are you wearing a cardigan with a thermal? You dress yourself like a kindergartener.” 

Gladio shrugged, smirking, trying not to be offended, and stretched across the bed again. “Why don't you come over here and fix it? You're so good at dressing your kindergartener, I thought you might miss the challenge.” 

Ignis frowned, hands clenched into fists, but took the bait regardless; storming into the bathroom and returning with pins between his mouth, and a hairbrush in his hand, slapping at the bed in an odd signal for Gladio to get on his knees in front of Ignis. 

Gladio watched their reflection in the mirror of their vanity, immediately reminded of when their mother used to pull Iris onto her lap and brush too harshly through her tangled strands, stringy and thin from their father, occasionally swearing under her breath when Iris cried. 

Ignis, however, was more patient, despite the fact his face was set in a scowl as he mumbled around the hairpins pressed between his lips. He was careful with the tangles, pausing to pinch the root of the strand to comb out the knot, before smoothing it in with the rest. It was possible he'd done this a million times with Noct, patient and soothing, but it was almost clinical feeling in a way that had entirely to do with it fact it was Ignis performing what was an intimate kind of act. 

His pulled Gladio's hair up into a tight bun, a few curls escaping around the tie itself, and Ignis secured them with the pins before wiping his hands on his jeans and rising without fanfare.

“Change your shirt if you insist on wearing my jumpers.” 

Ignis pushed past his peacoat hanging on the rack and instead reached out for Gladio's familiar, worn brown leather, throwing it over his shoulder. 

“And what do you think you're doing?” 

Ignis snorted. “Wearing my boyfriend's clothes.”

\----

Iris giggled from her place sandwiched between Gladio and Ignis, reaching forward to amicably turn the radio down a few decimals as Ignis shoved his face against the window--entirely unattractive with his cheek glue to the glass, glasses askew, and Gladio had to bite back on his own laughter as the truck rumbled into town. 

“You sure are grumpy in the mornings,” Iris observed, her mittened hand resting over one of Ignis’, clinging tightly. 

“I'll be better when I have coffee, I assure you,” replied with some strain, glassy eyes closed as if trying to remain patient. 

“He's also just grumpy,” Gladio whispered conspiratorially, loud enough for Ignis to hear and grunt in admonition, before Gladio tacked on, “It's cute. You'll learn to love it.” 

Iris just chuckled, squeezing Ignis’ gloved hand again with her own. 

“He'd better perk up. We've got a long day ahead of us!” she grinned when Ignis let out a long whine, his breath fogging up the glass. “I need you conscious, Mister, to help me pick out a dress. Gladio has the _worst_ fashion sense.” 

“I'm well aware,” Ignis sighed, giving Gladio a side-eyed glare, the latter of which just bundled himself deeper into Ignis’ cardigan, pressing his nose against the collar until Iris gave notice and scrunched her face in disgust. 

“It's...kinda nice to have you around,” Iris admitted. “Don't take this the wrong way or anything, but I'm glad Gladdy brought you home.” 

Ignis murmured something, before peeling his cheek from the glass. “Why on earth would I take that the wrong way? That was kind, Iris.” 

Iris shrugged. “I just, well, you're really fashion savvy….” 

Ignis snorted. “You're worried that's because I'm gay.” 

Iris shrugged again, looking sheepish. 

Ignis snorted again. “I'd previously thought my sexuality had something to do with my pride in my appearance as well; until I met Gladio, who reminded me that gay men come in all shapes and sizes, and all stages of the fashionably challenged spectrum.” 

Gladio huffed. “Maybe the glitter gene just skips bi guys.” 

It's the first time he'd said it, but Ignis doesn't note it aloud; instead just studies Gladio curiously through the cloud of his headache. 

“I'm glad you aren't mad about the whole gay best friend thing,” Iris droned, her voice beginning to sound whiny against Ignis’ tired mind, and he flinched at the stereotype nonetheless, but smiled. “I just meant you're really cool and helpful. Almost like having a woman around the house again!” 

Ignis twitched. 

“Oh, bloody hell--” 

“Iris!” 

\----

Iris had stopped crying eventually, the promise of Starbucks too thrilling to keep her upset about Ignis’ swear-ridden tirade about homosexual stereotypes, before Gladio had reminded him she was only fourteen. He'd most likely apologize once he had coffee in him, but Gladio was still speeding through stop signs in order to avoid another blow out. 

In Gladio's leather jacket, Ignis looked twice as pissed and tough as nails, glaring out the car window and shaking with rage and withdrawal. Hot. He looked hot. 

“Wait,” Iris said, yanking on Ignis hand--she'd taken to holding it again, much to the man's chagrin--stopping him from entering the coffee shop, and he groaned so loudly Gladio had to floor himself. “Can you eat this?”

Ignis blinked. “Coffee? Yes, I'm almost positive I need it to live.” 

Iris squinted at the sign in the window, as if searching for something, then blinked back at him. “But, Noct said--” 

“Oh, this is nonsense--” 

“I wanna know!” Iris said, stamping her foot and clamping so hard on to Ignis’ fingers the advisor was howling at her strength, knees buckling. “Shit, sorry, Ignis!” 

“What is so important?” he demanded, cradling his sore hand to his chest, before seeing Iris’ features and schooled himself back into the calm and understanding demeanor he'd saved for Noct. 

Gladio watched the interaction with wide eyes. Here was Ignis again, folding his real personality into his back pocket and pretending to care about someone--not just someone, his sister--and it was believable. It was good. 

It was scary. 

Gladio had watched the two of them yesterday, gluing together gingerbread slabs with icing and grinning at one another and he'd thought--

Well, none of that was important, but Iris was still rambling. 

“--really kosher, is it, if they reuse it? How do you know? And what happens if you eat it, do you just go to hell, or--” 

“Iris!” Gladio screamed, but Ignis was chuckling softly, holding his forehead with a gloved hand, and Gladio was steering them both out of the cold and into the store. 

Ignis perked up immediately, the mere smell of the shop managing to revive him from his wilted flower state. 

“Starbucks does have kosher items, ones of which I'm familiar with, but I appreciate the concern. Certain drinks are made with certain machines that aren't so questionable, so it's perfectly kosher to drink those--” 

Gladio was blinking, watching as Iris drank up Ignis’ smooth lecture, before he himself had to interrupt. 

“I didn't know you ate kosher,” he said dumbly, causing Ignis and Iris to stare wide eyed at him. 

“You didn't know your fiance was Jewish?” Iris shrieked loudly, a few of the restaurant patrons nearby turning to glance at them. 

“He means,” Ignis covered smoothly, shooting a glare at Gladio that froze him in his spot. “He didn't know I was eating kosher on this trip. I'm traveling.” 

Iris raised an eyebrow. “That makes a difference?” 

“Of course,” Ignis grinned cheekily. “Six hundred and thirteen mitzvots, all of which are impossible to follow outside the homeland. When you're traveling, it creates a _Sha’as haDchak,_ meaning I don't have to worry so much if I make a mistake and eat treif.”

Iris grinned. “So, no eternal damnation if you eat ham?” 

Ignis chuckled again, his face a little pink. “No eternal damnation ever; We don't believe in hell.” 

Iris’ eyes went wide. “Holy shit, that's awesome.” 

Ignis shrugged. “Keep in mind, you two only have ten rules to follow, and you don't even technically need to follow them to get to Heaven. I have six hundred rules to follow and have to be nice to everyone--it's very difficult.” 

Iris chuckled, regardless pulled up a list of kosher items on her phone and ordered for the three of them while Gladio and Ignis grabbed a table near the back. 

“You're staring,” Ignis sighed, pulling his hat low over his ears. 

Gladio started, coughing into his fist. “Uh, sorry.” 

“Spit it out.” 

“I didn't know you were Jewish?” Gladio said, coughing into his fist again, shifting. 

Ignis sighed into his palm, lifting his tired eyes to Gladio. The hand that wasn't busy holding up his head tripped across the table to lace his fingers with Gladio's, keeping up their appearance for Iris. Gladio's palm shook. 

“Does that bother you?” he asked for the millionth time, making Gladio wince a little, as if they hadn't been having this conversation over and over again. 

“Nothing about you bothers me,” Gladio murmured softly as another couple walked by their table, and Gladio kept his eyes low. “We're friends. I don't give a shit about what you do on Sundays.” 

“It's Saturdays.” 

“Whatever.” 

Ignis chuckled again, running his thumb over the back of Gladio's hand. “Good to know, I suppose.” 

“Huh?” 

“I can finally give my grandmother that big, fat Jewish wedding she's been begging me for,” he smiled at their joined hands, before choking his on his laughter. “Good Lord, Gladio, you're going to make a beautiful bride.” 

Gladio couldn't help but laugh at the image, conjuring Ignis’ little Jewish grandmother in his mind's eye, properly scandalized and grandchild-less. 

They were biting back on their giggled, foreheads pressed together when Iris arrived with their coffee. 

“Your PDA is grossing everyone out, you know,” she informed them, taking a sip of her own tea with a hesitant face, as if kosher were equivalent to awful. 

“Good,” Gladio grinned, reaching out to cup the back of Ignis’ head with his hand, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek, which Ignis promptly wiped off. 

“Gross.” 

“You love me.”

Ignis just shrugged. “Allegedly, or so I've been told.”

\----

“You look good in that.” 

“You've said that about everything I've tried on, Gladiolus, you aren't being helpful.” 

Iris giggled at the interaction, helping Ignis smooth the blazer on over his dress shirt. 

“Better get used to him sitting in the husband chair for when you guys get married,” Iris groaned. “He's no help when it comes to shopping.” 

Gladio, true to form, didn't look up from his phone. 

Ignis, now properly caffeinated, shot Iris a smile. 

“Oh, I'm not surprised. Watch this. Gladio?” Ignis called, earning a disinterested grunt in return. “How many children would you like? I'm thinking twelve.”

“Mm,” Gladio grunted, Iris bending over in laughter, smothering it in her hand as she twirled in the department store dress she'd tried on. 

“I'm also thinking we should move to Gralea. I know it's freezing there constantly, but it remedies the fact that you're constantly shirtless, which I insure you no one enjoys.” 

Gladio was still staring at his phone at his phone in concentration, eyebrows furrowed as he squinted at the screen. 

“Sure thing, sweetheart. Whatever you say.” 

Iris stopped laughing, then, turning to Ignis with a fond smile, stepping up beside him in the folding mirror, admiring their reflections together. 

“He loves you a lot, doesn't he?” 

Ignis just smiled back at her. “Remind me as to why we're buying such formal attire again? Surely dinner isn't such an ordeal.” 

“Mm,” Iris grinned, distracted by her own reflection again. Her spaghetti strapped dress revealed her biceps and shoulders, thicker and more muscular than Ignis had anticipated. It seemed that Amicitia's had infuriating, wonderful genes. “Daddy throws a Christmas party every year, invites half of Insomnia. It's really draining, but kinda fun once you get past the bullshit.” 

Ignis frowned at his reflection; no, this suit wasn't going to do. He wished he'd fixed his hair this morning. Gladio's leather jacket was slung across Gladio's lap, and Ignis felt an itch to wear it again, despite the fact Iris seemed content with her purchase. 

“When's Gladdy gonna buy you a ring, anyway?” Iris grumped irritably, frowning at Ignis’ still-gloved hand. “Daddy raised him better than that. How'd he even propose anyway?” 

Ignis found himself hot under the collar, glancing at Gladio for help, before realizing the man wasn't paying attention at all. Brilliant. 

“Rings are expensive and unnecessary--when the time comes, wedding rings will do, but there's no point in having one just for the engagement, I don't think.” 

Iris was watching him now, clearly waiting for the second part of her question, before Gladio spoke up from his chair. 

“Are you gettin’ that suit or what? My ass is falling asleep.” 

Ignis licked his lips. 

“No, sweetheart, why don't we try another store?” 

\----

“You should've said something, you know.” 

“Said what?” 

Gladio was fiddling with a package anxiously as Ignis prepped for their dinner with Clarus--Ignis hadn't paid it much mind, but Gladio had beamed when Jared let him know it had arrived. Ignis, however, was too preoccupied with his reflection, rubbing cologne into his wrists like a grandmother might do. 

“Said that you were Jewish. Isn't your family celebrating?” 

Ignis snorted. “You didn't even know I was gay until yesterday.” 

“Guess we don't know much about each other.” 

“I assumed that was the point.” 

Gladio let the silence settle between them, listening to hiss of Ignis’ hair spray sound as he fiddled with matches. 

“I mean, it's like, the third night of Chanukah, isn't it? You weren't, I mean….” 

“You're asking if I had genuine plans for the holidays, because you're assuming I didn't, because I'm stuffy and unlikable,” Ignis accused, and Gladio's face flooded with color, because fuck, he was right. 

“Firstly,” Ignis sighed. “I was going to spend the holidays with Noctis. I do so every year, and we usually don't celebrate anything other than Christmas.” 

Gladio's brow furrowed, staring at the suddenly foreign matchbox in his hand. “Oh.” 

“Secondly, if I was home, it would just be my Uncle and I, and he'd most likely send underwear and chocolate gelt in the mail, so, no, I'm not missing much. Don't lose any sleep.” 

Gladio nodded, biting back on his lip. “I am sorry about dragging you away from Noct, though. I mean, I get he's important to you.”

Ignis’ reflection smiled at Gladio from the mirror, nodding in thanks. He seemed to consider something. 

“After the new year….” 

“Go, see him. I'll tell dad you've got something to work on or whatever,” Gladio grumbled out, before feeling something heavy settle in his stomach. “Do you love him?” 

Ignis’ hair brush clattered to the sink. “I'm sorry?” 

“Noctis,” Gladio clarified, his voice gruff. “Are you in love with him? I'm not gonna tell.” 

Ignis stared panicked at the mirror for several moments, before letting out a puff of nervous laughter. 

“Gladiolus, just because I'm gay and I care about him, doesn't mean I want to sleep with him.” 

“Not what I asked.” 

“No,” Ignis said, little patience left in his tone. “I don't love him. He's like a brother to me--he's my best friend--” 

“He likes Prompto better,” Gladio prompted without missing a beat, until Ignis’ shoulder stiffened. 

“Yes. He does. Are you being a dick for a reason?” 

“No--”

“I wouldn't expect you to understand,” Ignis hissed pointedly to his reflection. “Noct is--he's special. People like him only come around so often, and he's so much more than you can comprehend.” 

Gladio was thankful that Ignis didn't go for the low blow, didn't point out the fact Gladio didn't have friends, not like Ignis did. There wasn't a Noctis for Gladio, no one he could call when things were bad; there was only so much he could tell Iris. 

Briefly, Gladio wondered if he was so transparent, if Ignis knew everything; Gladio was pretty fucking lonely. 

Ignis appeared in the doorway separating the bath from the room, his expression stern and his dress shirt pressed tight against his chest, most likely coming to chew Gladio out.   
Then he stopped. 

“What is that?” He demanded, deadpan. 

Gladio shrugged sheepishly, still tossing the match book between his large palms. 

“Same day shipping is pretty damn cool, huh? I, uh, I'm not sure if I lit the candles right.” 

The menorah was ugly, and cheap, but Ignis stared at it as if it was the actual damn original miracle itself, sitting there on the dresser in their room, glowing softly. 

“It's--it's correct,” Ignis grunted. “You didn't have to do this. Chanukah is not the most important Jewish holiday by a long shot--” 

“Wanted to,” Gladio shrugged. “I owe you for being such a huge dick and not knowin’ anything about you. Sign of goodwill and all that shit.” 

Ignis didn't say much else, just nodded, and began knotting a claret colored tie at his throat with a somber face. 

\----

Clarus Amicitia was a solemn man.

Ignis had seen him only a handful of times before--one of which he'd been drunk at a party in the capitol building, laughing with secretaries and eating half the buffet, and Regis spent most of the night making fun of him, and another time he'd seen the man red faced and screaming, throwing paperwork and paperweights across a conference room, narrowly avoiding scalping the President of Lucis. 

Now, however, pouring Ignis a glass of wine, Clarus was stone faced and silent. 

Beside Ignis, Gladio was similarly still in his chair, his own button up straining across his chest, and Ignis realized he may not be his best defense tonight. Under the table, Ignis found Gladio's hand and squeezed it in reassurance. 

Ignis accepted the glass of wine with a smile, and Iris slid her ice water across the table slyly with a wink. If Clarus noticed, he didn't say. 

“I must admit,” Clarus began, his voice as commanding as Ignis remembered, the cadence echoing in his ribs. “I never thought I'd see you sitting at my dinner table, Mr. Scientia, at least not like this. You're Regis’ pet project, weren't you?” 

“Dad,” both Iris and Gladio interjected, but Ignis was playing diplomat tonight, smiling knowingly as letting the jab roll off his back. 

“I've been aiding the President's son for nearly eleven years now, sir. Mr. Caelum and I know each other well.” 

Clarus smiled in a way that made Gladio twitch in his seat--his _I've caught you in your lie_ smile. 

“I'm sorry,” he laughed over his dinner plate. “I'm confused. Weren't you on the campaign trail with Ravus Fleuret during the last election?” 

All the blood drained from Gladio's face until his fingers went numb. Ignis’ grip on his hand was alarmingly tight. 

He smirked. “Yes, sir. That's why he won.” 

Clarus allowed himself to bark a laugh, slapping the table in an exaggerated show. 

It was unnerving for Gladio, to watch this dinner show play out in front of him; masked marionettes had replaced his father and faux fiance, dancing around each other with knives behind their backs. 

“You're well aware that when Gladio runs for office the two of them will be in direct competition?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Who do you intend to campaign for?”

Ignis’ smile was blinding. “I'm afraid I haven't given it much thought. Gladio and I don't much discuss politics; it's a drain on the relationship.” 

Clarus’ smile wavered when Ignis placed their hands on the table between their plates. Across the table, Iris kept her head ducked low, shoving more meat in her mouth than any fourteen year old girl should be able to stomach. Ignis hadn't touched his plate. 

“But you're fond of my son?” he said tightly, making Gladio's chest clench. 

“We're engaged,” Gladio grunted softly, running his thumb over the leather ridges across the back of Ignis’ hand. “I told you that.” 

“Cut the shit,” Clarus cried at the same time Iris’ knife clattered into her plate. Ignis didn't let his cool determination falter; Clarus could call their bluff all he wanted. Ignis wasn't going to cave. “I can't believe you'd do something this disgusting, Gladiolus, just to play a nasty trick on me. You're getting too old for this.” 

Gladio's throat seemed to have closed up. Perfect. 

“Sir?” Ignis asked, but Clarus wasn't paying him any mind. 

“I ask you to do one damn thing--it's not even difficult--and here you are, ruining not only our holiday, but this boy's holiday, and possibly your future if you don't shape up. What if someone got wind of this? Your name is only going to carry you so far, and being with a man is going to cost you a lot of votes--” 

“We don't intend to be married until we have our careers established,” Ignis supplied dutifully. “Mr. Fleuret isn't married, and he secured a seat easy enough.” 

Ignis didn't mention more tidbits he knew, lest Ravus get raked through the mud during next seasons campaign ads; it was hard to keep it all in his throat, keep down an argument he knew was good. 

“You don't get it, do you?” Clarus asked, eyes finally cutting to Ignis. His face was so similar to Gladio's and yet entirely different, all warmth and loyalty that hid in the lines at the corners of Gladio's eyes and at the edges of his smile were void in his father's face. “He's playing you. I asked him to bring home a wife and instead he brought you as a joke. He's leading you on.” 

“He must be a very good actor, then,” Ignis laughed crassly. Half of him wanted to throw something onto the table to prove Gladio loved him--he didn't even have a ring. Anything lewd shouldn't be said in front of Iris, anyhow. 

Clarus was glaring at the two of them, doubtless trying to find the chink in their armor, because clearly something was off with them, even as Ignis’ leaned closer, brushing Gladio's thigh under the table with his own. 

“This won't end well,” he warned. “Not for either of you. I suggest you give this thought before you go public; think about your families.” 

No one moved for several beats, three sets of eyes staring at their plates as Clarus glanced between them, before raising his wine glass to his lips. 

“Iris, sweetie, that dress is just beautiful. Is it new?” 

\----

“That could've gone better.” 

“Could've gone worse,” Ignis conceded, already laying back against the bed in his pajamas. Gladio didn't hesitate to hit the lights and crawl in beside him; the heat was on tonight, for now, but they pressed their hips together for warmth anyway, both of them laying on their backs. 

“I'm half convinced, you know, that you drug me out to this Hallmark movie town in the middle of nowhere just to annoy your father and ruin my reputation,” Ignis said, grinning. 

“Wouldn't do that to a pretty thing like you,” Gladio responded cheekily, earning a kick under the covers. The room was warmly lit by the still flickering candles in the corner, making it difficult for the melatonin to set in as the cables clicked in his mind. 

“So, like, I guess that explains why you're a total stick in the mud, huh?” 

Ignis shifted beside him, and Gladio realized that he was turning to make eye contact in their shared fucking bed, which shouldn't freak Gladio out as much as it did. His hair was already limp against his face, glasses neatly folded on the bedside table, leaving his green eyes barely cracked as exhaustion threatened to over take him. 

“What do you mean?” he murmured, accent thick with sleep. 

“Aren't Jews like, orthopraxic instead of orthodoxy? You're all straight laced and virginal and shit.” 

Ignis snorted. “Virginal, hmm?” 

“The more you talk like that the more I'm convinced you fuckin’ hog tied Prom or some freaky shit.” 

Ignis chuckled again, shrugging his shoulder into his pillow, letting his eyes slip closed.

“Actually,” he sighed. “Out of all the old Jewish laws, none of them actually prohibit premarital sex, they simply ask that they avoid adultery in the sense of infidelity. The laws are designed to keep close knit communities from going to chaos. It's Christianity that presents itself to be erotophobic and denies pleasure--not that you follow any of your own rules.” 

“Never said I was religious,” Gladio murmured. 

Ignis tapped his throat with two fingers. “Just because you tuck your rosary in your shirt doesn't mean I can't see it.” 

“Mm.” 

Ignis cleared his throat. “Jewish law, however, does prohibit same sex intercourse for the reason that it presents itself as a hindrance for reproduction. Descendants more numerous than the stars and all that jazz.” 

Gladio cough. “O-oh?” 

“Yes,” Ignis laughed. “So I suppose we're both rather guilty. however, by that logic, masturbation--” 

“I am _not_ having that conversation with you!” 

Too tired to truthfully laugh, Ignis just grinned widely, rolling until he was on his stomach, letting his shoulder touch Gladio's bare one. 

“I'm not sure your father thinks we're together,” Ignis sighed--when he did that, Gladio could feel the warmth of it ghost across his jugular. If Ignis shifted just a hair closer, his nose could brush Gladio's cheek. 

“What do you wanna do, make him a sex tape? He either believes us or he doesn't.” 

Ignis grunted, before sitting up bolt right. 

“The fuck is wrong with you?” 

“I forgot to check in with Noct!” 

Gladio groaned as the blanket shifted up, letting cold hair into the nest of heat. 

“What the fuck do you gotta do, make sure he shit today? The kid's fine!” Gladio grunted, dragging the blanket back over him. Ignis scowled. 

“I wouldn't expect you to get it.” 

His father's comments from dinner all came flooding back suddenly. 

“Did they really ask you to watch him when you were a kid?” Gladio asked carefully, the absurdity of the statement settling into the air around them. Ignis let his phone fall in his lap. 

“I was head boy of my year at our school and Noctis had just transferred. My Uncle was on Regis’ staff--he was just a governor then, but they asked me to look after Noct and show him around.” 

“And?” 

“And,” Ignis sighed. “They sat me down and made it very clear this wasn't a one-off situation. I took it seriously. I needed a distraction.” 

Gladio almost didn't ask--but then he realized, as Ignis settled back down into the sheets beside him, curling his arms between them, he wouldn't have said it if he didn't mean to. 

“Distraction?” 

Ignis stayed still beside him. “I'd hardly been at the school a year when Noct arrived. Throwing myself into my studies wasn't as challenging as I'd hoped it would've been. My Uncle had sent me away when he'd received custody; I assume he wasn't too thrilled about suddenly having an eleven year old one day.” 

Gladio said nothing, and Ignis snorted. 

“I'm surprised Noct never told you; he'd told Prompto, and that had been an awkward conversation. My parents were ambassadors to Tenebrae for Lucis; they were in the capitol when Niflheim bombed the city.” 

Gladio's brain short circuited. What do you say to shit like that? He couldn't get up and leave, walk away, pretend it hadn't been said. Ignis was pressed against his side, eyes closed, and Gladio almost let it float in the air between them. He remembered watching it on TV with dad, remembered the body count rising, watching the president's family get safely evacuated while the citizens asphyxiated in the stifling air. 

“Uh,” he grunted. “I'm sorry.” 

“What, did you kill them personally?” 

Gladio spluttered. _“What?”_

“Then don't apologize, imbecile.” 

“I just--” 

“I know,” Ignis sighed. “But there's no use crying over spilt milk.” 

Ignis’ fingertips found their way to Gladio's shoulder, ghosting there just above his bare skin, across the inking lines of his tattoo. 

“Do you miss them this time of year?” 

“Do you miss your mother?” 

“No,” Gladio immediately responded. “And that's really fucking different.” 

Ignis shrugged. “It's not really. They were here and now they aren't. The same is true for your mother.” 

“Iris doesn't get that.” 

“She gets more than you think,” Ignis grinned. “Perhaps if you're lucky, your father will let you and I abscond into the wilderness to be lumberjack poets and Iris can run Capitol Hill. She'd be brilliant at it.” 

Gladio didn't mention that he'd never told Ignis he didn't want to be a politician. He wasn't sure if he'd read it from the tabloids or if he'd simply read it in Gladio's face. 

\----

“How can you stand to be in politics?” Gladio asked later. They've shifted closer again; Ignis’ palm against Gladio's shoulder and Gladio's arm tucked around him, for warmth, the light still flickering dutifully in the corner of the room. 

“After your parents,” he clarified. Ignis was half asleep already, his hair limp against Gladio's cheek. He smiled very softly. 

“Noct isn't too keen on the idea of going into politics either,” he murmured. “But when he gets going, he has all these selfless ideals that are so untouched and unreal; it's up to me to push him forward, keep him driven without letting that spark die.” 

Gladio nodded, the heavy feeling in his stomach returned. 

Ignis cleared his throat again. “I don't ever remember discussing politics with my parents, not once. But they left their country to make it a better place, and then died senselessly. To let myself become cynical over that seems counterintuitive to their purpose.” 

Gladio didn't know anything about Ignis. 

He wanted to. Fuck, he wanted to. 

\----

Two am. Their legs were wound together, Ignis snug against Gladio's chest in a way that reminded him they'd absolutely have to get him another case of ebony tomorrow on a shopping run. 

“Your father doesn't believe you like me,” Ignis murmured again, so softly, like he was dreaming it. 

“Yeah? You got any suggestions, smart guy?” 

Ignis stayed still for a long time--long enough to convince Gladio he was actually asleep--before rolling off Gladio, on to his back. Reaching up with two slim fingers and digging them into the collar of his undershirt, dragging it down to expose the pale column of his throat, the defined branch of his clavicle, both unmarked and pale. Ignis turned his face into the pillow, clearly meaning to give better access. Gladio's heart stopped beating in his chest. 

The candles flickered loyally in the corner, dying Ignis’ moonlight skin a fiery hue. 

“Don't get excited,” Ignis warned. “And don't get handsy. One and done.” 

“Just one?” Gladio asked, hands shaking as he crawled up dutifully, lowering himself on his forearms above Ignis, already pressing his lips to the advisor's throat.

Ignis hissed--impossible to tell if the heat on his neck was blush or firelight. “And don't get _greedy._ ”

Gladio chuckled when Ignis caved, reached up to press a hand against the nape of Gladio's neck, keeping his head steady as he worked. 

\----

“Looks good,” he remarked at seven, the bruises across the apex of his throat darkened to a vibrant purple, watercolor blues at the edges, and Ignis winced when Gladio thumped it with his thumb pridefully.

“Ouch! Stop that, it's sore.” 

“Funny thing about hickies,” Gladio snorted. 

Ignis made a sour face at his own reflection. “I'll never get the appeal.”

“My jacket’s got a low collar,” Gladio reminded, reaching around Ignis, who was still glaring at his reflection, to get to his toothbrush. “It'll cover the worst of it, but leave just a bit showin’. We'll visit Jared this mornin’, see if we can't get him gossipin’ to my dad.” 

Ignis frowned, reaching for his phone and snapping a quick selfie with a worried frown, before sending it out to Noct. 

“What are you doin’?” Gladio laughed as Ignis ducked his head in his hands. 

“Letting Noctis know how it's going in hell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> Yeah....
> 
> Thanks for staying to the end my dudes. I realized earlier I didn't let you know that I was thicchocobobutt over on tumblr; hmu about them bois. 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated. Have a stress free new year ♡♡♡


	6. So Glad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis didn't see that Gladio was pretty or romantic or funny. Ignis saw what everyone else saw: a fuck-up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short little update! I originally planned this chapter to be longer, but, ya know. 
> 
> Thanks for all the sweet comments last chapter! I'm so blessed to have all ya'll enjoying this story so much!

The hickies faded, so Gladio got to work creating more. 

They did their job well; Clarus nearly choked over his dinner when he caught first sight of them, and Ignis, who'd been against their PDA from the start, had to smother his smile in his water glass. 

“I'm sorry, who doesn't like who now?” Ignis had snickered when they'd returned from dinner that night, dissolving into giggles as he thumbed out the story for Noct in their messages. 

“You're really worked up about this,” Gladio accused the next time he was leaning over him, Ignis laid out beneath him clinically and formally, as if Gladio were performing surgery rather than sucking love bites on his clavicle. Ignis made a face of disdain. 

“It's the principle of the thing now--it's not even so much to cover our asses as it is that your father thinks you aren't interested in me, when I'm clearly out of your league.” 

“Hey!” 

“I am,” Ignis insisted petulantly, arms folded across his chest and knees drawn upward to avoid any unnecessary issues, well, popping up for lack of a better word. 

“Well, I think we're provin’ it, unless you want me to start walkin’ with a limp,” Gladio grinned roguishly, causing Ignis to snort. 

Gladio pulled away from Ignis’ throat, still balanced on his forearms. 

“What?” 

“I was just thinkin’ it's weird that only you have them.” 

Ignis didn't like how deathly still he felt trapped under Gladio's weight. 

“You'd like me to return the favor?” 

Gladio shrugged, casting his eyes to the side as if they aren't nose to nose, before rolling on his back. 

“I mean, only if you wanna. ‘M not gonna make ya.” 

Later, Ignis would be embarrassed at how quickly he clambered across the bed to straddle Gladio's hips, quickly undoing the top buttons of his thermal with steady hands and disinterested eyes. In the moment, he did what he needed to and let Gladio excuse himself to the bathroom when they were done. 

\----

Clarus became more amiable, if not more passive as the days wore on. Either he started to believe they were really together--that Gladio might've really felt something--or their act was just getting more believable. 

Clarus and Ignis discussed policy, their views ranging wildly, but Ignis was pleased to find that Clarus didn't shout his opinions, and was kind enough to agree to disagree--it was more than he could say for Regis, sometimes. 

He was different at the dinner table than he was at cabinet meetings--he told awful dad jokes that had them all groaning, listened attentively when Iris droned on about the updates of her favorite tv romcom. It was Gladio that he didn't much speak to or acknowledge, at least not on a deeper level, not like he did with his daughter. 

Gladio, more often than not, retired to their room after dinner with a soured look on his face, his hands seeking permission from Ignis. Ignis had never had a man talk so much about his father while they were kissing his neck. 

\----

“I don't understand why we have to walk to the lake when we could just take your motorcycle.” 

“There's four of us, Iris,” Gladio snorted as the two children trailed along in front of them, pointedly ignoring the look Ignis was giving him at the word _motorcycle._

“Motorcycle? The endless leather and the tattoo and the sex clubs weren't enough? What, did you have a midlife crisis at twenty?” 

“Yes,” Gladio hissed, but he was smiling as he tried to kick Ignis’ shins as they trekked through the forest path, lined by fallen pine needles, sheathed in morning frost. 

The two of them were walking arm in arm up the path--Ignis bundled in his knitted cap and one of Gladio's hideous puffer coats, and Gladio similarly adorned--Iris and Talcott trailed ahead of them, running and whooping and climbing on every rock in their path. Iris balanced most of the supplies in her arms, but Talcott kept their tackle box close to his chest, careful not to spill the contents. 

“Part of me can't believe that no matter where I would've gone for the winter holiday, I would've ended up fishing; then I remembered the Lord is punishing me for something, because he's put me here with you,” Ignis groaned, his face pale with the cold, the tip of his nose glowing red in the early dawn air. 

The two of them had been stuck on babysitting duty, and Gladio had learned something long ago that Ignis had never; exhausted kids make well behaved kids. Iris and Talcott would be ridiculously worn out after this trek into the wilderness, and crash in front of the tv when they got home. 

Sure, Noct slept a lot, but the kid was just fucking lazy. If he could find the energy to circle jerk Prom off in their dorm room, the kid had energy to do his homework. Ignis was just too soft on him. 

“Just wait till you tell Noct,” Gladio snorted. “He's gonna be so jealous.” 

“Somehow, I doubt that. I'm with you.” 

\----

The lake was frozen over, but Gladio dutifully carved out a section of ice as the kids play on the rocks around the shore, climbing them like mountains, howling when they fall and scrape the backs of their thighs. Iris rubbed at her eyes when she cried, but smiled through the pain. Admirable; Ignis found himself wondering if Gladio did the same. 

\----

“How many selfies do you take a day, geez?” Gladio grumbled, adjusting his baseball cap low over his eyes as Ignis grinned cheekily at his phone screen. They didn't bother to whisper while Gladio held his fishing rod between his legs; the kids were too busy singing Christmas songs behind them that it didn't make much of a difference. 

Ignis pouted at Gladio, his lower lip red from the cold when he pushed it out. 

“Selfies are good for self esteem,” he said, “And I need proof in case you decide you like me too much and want to keep me locked up in your basement forever.” 

Gladio snorted, but he posed nonetheless, letting Ignis fall back against his chest as Gladio slung his tree trunk arms around Ignis’ stemmy waist. They're both smiling so widely that their eyes are hardly open, and Gladio finds himself marveling again at the pinkness of Ignis’ rosebud mouth, the way his green eyes spark, lively and mischievous. 

Ignis was pretty.

Ignis was _gorgeous._

Gladio wanted to chalk his thoughts up to nothing more than compulsory feelings; he'd been tricking his body for nearly a week now, in some of the most unfair ways, that he'd been feeling something he wasn't. It didn't help that every minute of daylight was spent with straight-laced stranger Ignis Scientia giving him doe eyes. 

It wasn't that Gladio was in love--it wasn't like that at all. It wasn't because they were friends, or because Gladio had started to notice the way Ignis’ fingers twitched before he woke up, or the way he slept with his mouth wide open, or because if Gladio turned his head quickly enough he could still smell Ignis’ sleepy scent on him. 

He was positive; it was something to do with the chemicals in his brain that flooded his system whenever Ignis got too close. If he brought home Aranea, he'd been just as conflicted about her. 

The terrible thing about that, though, was that Aranea might've let him get some catharsis, just for the heck of it. 

Ignis wouldn't. Not ever. 

Even worse was that Gladio couldn't even imagine himself _asking_ Ignis the way he might proposition Aranea. Ignis, who told him upfront he'd only been with two guys when he clearly could've been with whoever he wanted. Ignis, who dropped everything and came down to the house of someone who was barely a friend just because they'd needed a favor. Ignis, who gave all of himself all the time for others. 

Ignis, who was way fucking out of Gladio's league, and Gladio was starting to get it. 

It was clear by the way Clarus spoke to Ignis, spoke about Ignis, that he was regarded well at the capitol. Better than Gladio was by a mile. It didn't matter that guys like Gladio looked pretty, had a lot of money, had a family name; guys like Ignis didn't care about any of that. 

Yeah, Ignis was pretty in a lithe sort of way--but he was also fucking smart. Gladio was desperately aware of the fact his brain was full of information, and none of it relevant to whatever future everyone had planned out for him. Ignis didn't see that Gladio was pretty or romantic or funny. Ignis saw what everyone else saw: a fuck-up. 

Ignis reached up with his freehand to cup the back of Gladio's neck, pulling his face close until Gladio obediently pressed his freezing lips to the cut of his jaw, with Ignis still grinning obscenely. 

Gladio chuckled as Ignis sent them off to Noct, with some terrible fishing pun as the caption. Ignis never leaned away from Gladio's chest. 

“In addition to my argument,” Ignis grinned. “We make a very picturesque couple. Although, we're going to have to discuss your use of conditioner.” 

“I don't.” 

“Yes, that's the problem.” 

\----

Nearly an hour later, the kids were whining about the cold, and Gladio tasked them with watching the line while Ignis and Gladio strolled the edge of the lake. 

Noct had sent back a string of disgusted emojis, followed by a shot of he and Prompto in bed, Noct's lips pressed to his cheek and his eyes scrunched up as Prom grinned impossibly large at the camera. Ignis chuckled, smiling fondly down at his phone. 

Gladio smiled. “You miss them.” 

“Don't tell them,” Ignis threatened with a smile. “I'll lose my power.” 

Their arms were linked and Gladio felt the pull in his lower stomach again, the words threatening to tumble out all over the frozen earth before he could stop them. 

“I don't get why you don't wanna get with one of them,” Gladio vomited out, Ignis’ steps faltered, before digging his gloved fingers in the fabric of Gladio's coat. 

“Our relationship isn't like that.” 

“I don't get it, though,” Gladio continued. “You live for the kid, and you slept with the other one, so it's not like you weren't feelin’ somethin’.” 

Ignis pursed his lips. 

Gladio waited for his signature _I wouldn't expect you to understand,_ but it never came. 

Instead, “Why do you expect that's the next logical step in my relationships with them? Just, pick one, for what reason?” 

Gladio shrugged. “You don't wanna lose em, do you? If you're gonna dedicate your life to somebody, might as well.” 

Ignis frowned at his boots, looking pensive for a moment. “And you suggest I falsify romantic feelings in an attempt to maintain friendships that might otherwise deteriorate in opposition to their romantic conquests?” 

Gladio shrugged. “More or less.” 

“Marriage isn't a jail sentence, Gladiolus. It's not a way you get to keep someone.” 

“I know that!” he grumbled indignantly. “All I meant was just--shit, Iggy, why don't you let someone do something for you, for a change?” 

“You think I don't get anything out of my relationship with Noctis?” 

Gladio nodded. 

“Gladio,” he began very slowly, halting their walk entirely. “Not everyone needs a romantic relationship in their lives. Some people never get that. It's not a stepping stone everyone has to have to feel congruent--do you get that?”

Gladio was ready to answer--frustrated and obstinately, doubtless--when Ignis’ phone buzzed to life in his right hand, snapping the two of them apart. 

“It's Noct,” he said dumbly, staring at the phone as though it were a snake in his hand.

“Answer it. I'll go see if the kids are ready to go.” 

\----

“Lover's quarrel?” Iris teased as she and Talcott cleaned up their messes, and Gladio glared down at her. 

“He looked pis--mad at you,” she clarified, careful to watch her tongue around Talcott. “What were you two fighting about?” 

“Not fightin’,” Gladio sighed. “He's runnin’ low on coffee again. Gettin’ grumpy.” 

Iris’ brows furrowed. “You guys just picked up a case.” 

“The man drinks six cans a day,” Gladio laughed, turning to watch Ignis at the other of the pond whisper heartedly into the phone, his left hand gesturing by his hip. “Hates to ration.” 

“Mm,” Iris sighed. “You two get to carry the rods home. My hands are frozen and we didn't even catch anything.”

Gladio was too distracted to notice--too enthralled when Talcott shouted, “Look! It's snowing!” and the three of them took a moment to watch the thick powder begin to plaster itself on the tops of the trees. 

He didn't notice. He should've. 

He heard the crash. It took a moment to register, for his brain to realize it wasn't a safe sound. 

Iris was already screaming, already running. 

By the time he had the cognitive ability to think _Ignis,_ his frame had already disappeared from the shore. 

There was icy water spewing on the other side of the pond, wetting the frozen grass, immediately freezing over when it hit land. 

Gladio wished he was smarter, more analytical; Ignis’ response time wouldn't have been so slow to his own drowning. 

It took Gladio several seconds, wasted seconds, seconds that could save lives before he really understood. Iris was halfway across the lake. 

Gladio's fist pushed Talcott back onto the Earth, screaming at him to stay put, his body moving before his brain even understood. 

Ignis. 

_Ignis, Ignis, Ignis._

He ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, cliff-hanger, I'm a meanie. I know. I know. No, I know.
> 
> Hopefully next update should be either tomorrow or this weekend, since it shouldn't be all that long either. 
> 
> As always, thanks so much for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated, and happy new year!


	7. I Used to Think

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His hand moved from Ignis’ hair to settle on his bare shoulder, his amber gaze fixated near Ignis’ clavicle. Lips twitched, opened and closed, as if the words won't come, or as if he were trying to make himself smile. 
> 
> He settled on a bitter grin, before beginning with honest, darting eyes, “You scared the shit out me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thanks again so much for all the wonderful feedback from last chapter. It means the world to me, you have no clue, and I love all of you so much for being so invested in this self indulgent story ♡♡♡ 
> 
> I'm sorry for being a big fat meanie about last chapter, so here's a quick update to remedy that! 
> 
> On another note, I did major research about hypothermia before writing this chapter and a) not only was everything I thought I knew wrong, but b) Ignis totally would've died if this happened irl and it would've been Gladio's fault WHOOPS
> 
> But they haven't had mind blowing coitus yet, so he can't die,,,yet ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

“Stop yelling--dude, fuck, shut up for a second! He's fine, okay, I promise. As soon as he's awake I'll go buy him a new phone.” 

To say it was freezing would be an understatement. 

Ignis had never felt so cold in his life--or he would've, if he could've felt anything. He was vaguely aware his hair was wet in a clammy sort of way, plastered to his head by a knit cap. He was stiff, possibly sore, but his entire body was plagued with paralyzing pins and needles. Chin tucked just above a pile of blankets, he could tell, and perhaps something warm, too, pressing on his sternum--

Oh. Naked. He was naked. 

His brain was too muddled to care, too busy trying to piece together events that lead them to this moment. 

This wasn't their room--Ignis could hardly strain his neck to look around, but it was easy to tell that the set up was different. The bed was larger, an antique four poster, more plush than the double bed in the room before, and there was a fireplace sparking, a plush rug stationed before it, covering what was most likely chilled hardwood. 

Gladiolus’ voice drew the attention of his fogged brain again. Ignis wasn't sure if Gladio was shivering, or if perhaps it was just Ignis himself, but Gladio was in the doorway with wet hair plastered to the back of his neck, rivulets of the chilled liquid running down the dark plains of his bare back, slicking the inked lines of his tattoo. His head was braced against the frame of the open door, one hand over his eyes and the other cradling his phone to his ear. 

“Doc said he's gonna be fine in a few hours, Noct, just let him chill, okay? He's not even awake yet--” 

_Noct._

The croak Ignis let out made Gladio jump nearly out of his skin, dropping the phone to the floor and stumbling forward to push Ignis back down to the bed, his amber eyes panicked. 

“Iris! Get the doctor, he just woke up!”

\----

“It'll take a few hours for your speech to return, as well as your motor skills. Give yourself some time to recuperate.” 

Ignis did his best to nod as the doctor hooked up an IV to the side of the bed--warming saline through an intravenous tube, easily the least fun thing about this whole experience. 

“Gladiolus is a great nurse; I know he'll be sure to give you your liquids and your medicine whenever you ask, right?” he pointedly asked, staring at where Gladio was leaned against the wall, chewing his nails down the quicks. He nodded. 

Ignis was so numb he didn't even feel the needle prick. 

He shouldn't have been surprised, he supposed, that the Amicitia's had their own on-call family doctor; Noct had had his own for years, but something about it still surprised him. 

“He saved your life, you know,” the doctor said conspiratorially, and when Ignis shot his lethargic glance to Gladiolus, the larger man was looking away. He tucked his arm back under the massive nest of blankets. 

“He nearly killed you, too, of course,” he said, causing Ignis to sputter hopelessly as Gladio pinched his expression up pitifully, careful not to meet his gaze. 

“Not only pulled you out of the water,” he continued, “But ran the two miles back to the house with you in his arms, and got you undressed and in bed.” 

Ignis’ brows refused to furrow properly. “Ha...how--” 

“Too rough with you,” Gladio grunted. “You nearly went into cardiac arrest.” 

The doctor pursed his lips as silence took residence between them. 

“But, if Gladio had done nothing, you'd be dead. He did everything just right.”

Ignis tried to will Gladio to look at him, get him to turn around so that he could at least say his thanks with his eyes. 

“And now,” the doctor droned on. “He's in charge of the warm up and monitoring your breathing. Make sure you call me if anything seems off.” 

“Course,” Gladio murmured solemnly. “Thanks for coming.” 

\----

It turned out there's an additive to the saline, one that made him sleep. He had half a mind to be mad about it, but when he woke, the room was dark outside, brightly lit by the magnetic glow of the fireplace. 

Gladio was beside him, hair dry and book in hand, sweatpants riding low on the v of his hips. Shirtless, of course. 

Ignis was too warm. 

Gladio was quick to stumble into action as Ignis fought to sit up, pressing Ignis’ bare shoulder back into the mattress. 

“Slow down there, sweetheart,” Gladio chuckled stoically, making Ignis grimace as Gladio held him up for a moment, unfortunately aware that everywhere they touched was met with bare skin, and Gladio piled pillows behind him so he could sit up. “You should drink something.” 

“Bloody--” Ignis rasped, his hoarse voice painful as Gladio pulled a cup from the nightstand--nicer than the one in their old room by miles--and reached forward to cup Ignis’ chin in his hand, helping him drink. 

Ignis didn't like feeling so helpless. 

Still, Gladio was smiling fondly at him, if not a little pitifully, making Ignis skin crawl again when he remembered he was bloody naked beneath the few layers of sheets that separated them. 

“How ya feelin?” Gladio asked, plucking the cap off Ignis’ head and smoothing out his sweaty hair in a way that felt much too familiar. 

“Fine,” Ignis fully intended to grumble, but it came out so much meeker than intended. Gladio's brows furrowed, searching his face as if he disagreed, but just smiled again and let it go. The beads of his rosary clinked against the coffee mug as he set it back onto the wooden surface. 

Ignis’ mind was still muddled--whether it be from the fall, the cold, or the medicine--but he didn't have any questions to ask. There's a silence that settles between them, stiff, making Ignis worry; he couldn't stumble to fill it, not with his mind so slow and his tongue so heavy. Still, Gladio looked as if he had something he wanted to say. 

His hand moved from Ignis’ hair to settle on his bare shoulder, his amber gaze fixated near Ignis’ clavicle. Lips twitched, opened and closed, as if the words won't come, or as if he were trying to make himself smile. 

He settled on a bitter grin, before beginning with honest, darting eyes, “You scared the shit out me."

Ignis swallowed, trying to grin back in what he hoped was a convincing way. “Sorry?” 

“Sorry,” Gladio scoffed. “Of course you're sorry. I almost kill you, and you're sorry.” 

It took Ignis longer that it should've to roll his eyes back into his head. 

“I'm not induh--I'm not indulging your guilt trip, Glad-Glad--Gladdy,” Ignis hissed, tripping over his own tongue with an annoyed face. Gladio watched him with pitiful glance. “Whatever you think it is you've done.”

Gladio let his hand slip away from Ignis’ bare skin, the warmth immediately leaching from Ignis’ bones as Gladio let his fist fall limply into his lap. 

He stayed silent a few beats longer, Ignis’ eyes on him, until he shrugged. 

“This never would've happened if I hadn't asked you to come here. This is my fault.” 

Ignis started to laugh, honestly, and he wanted to. 

And then he realized Gladiolus was _crying._

The firelight wasn't kind, casting golden light across his bronzed face, highlighting the heavy streams that raced down his cheeks, the unattractive wetness below his nose as he scrubbed at his face with his fist. 

“Just, fuck,” he laughed mirthlessly. “You could've fucking died and it would been all my fault.” 

“You--you do understand that I would've been in the ma--in the mountains if I hadn't been here, yes?” Ignis coughed, his voice still rough, accent not nearly so lyrical as usual. “The very same thing could've happened.”

“But--” 

“But nothing,” Ignis growled through the stammering, his brain clear enough make another connection. “You're aware you saved my life, yes?” 

A pause, then a nod. 

Ignis reached out a stiff hand, letting himself so trace the scar racing across his cheek with clumsy fingers so unlike himself. His hand came away wet. 

“I owe you for this.” 

Gladio took his hand back, holding it there for a moment. It wasn't bloody normal by any means, but there's a magic surrealism to winter nights were snow lines the window sill and the only thing keeping you from blinding darkness was a soft fire. Ignis let him have this. 

He avoided the intensity in Gladio's gaze when he murmured, “You don't owe me anything,” lest he find something there he couldn't understand. 

\---- 

“Gladio?” 

One am. 

“Yeah? You thirsty?” 

He ignored the way Gladio's eyebrows wiggle over his emotion-swollen eyes. 

“Why am I naked?” 

Gladio didn't mean to laugh, because Ignis was giving him that unamused _I know where you sleep_ look, but the question was so absurd he had to muffle his laughter into his fist. 

“Hang on, I stole some clothes from the room, I'll help you get dressed.” 

Gladio rolled out of bed stealthily, and Ignis let himself watch the muscles work in the man's back--he'd earned a glance, after the week he's had. He returned quickly, a pile of black cotton folded neatly in his arms. Ignis leaned forward to let him tug a hoodie over his head. It appeared the IV bag had ran out at some point and been removed from his arm--there was a slim bandage there now, pastel pink with hearts, as if it had belonged to Iris. 

“I can manage the pants,” Ignis grunted, clearly unable, but refusing to the chuck the sheets down with Gladio hovering over him. 

Gladio rolled his eyes. “Not like I haven't seen it before.” 

Ignis’ stomach dropped. “You _didn't._ ” 

“Relax,” Gladio grumbled, turning on his heel but not budging, and Ignis threw back the sheets, wrestling with the ankles of sweats that obviously belonged to Gladio--much too long and much too large to be his own. “I didn't stare or anything. I was kinda preoccupied about keepin’ you alive, ya know.” 

Ignis could make out Gladio's smirk from his place in the bed, and Ignis tapped his wrist once he had the sweats up over his waist. Gladio settled into the bed beside him, slinging an arm around his shoulders. 

“Nice tattoo, by the way.” 

Ignis choked. 

“I...suppose I should've assumed you saw that,” he grumbled, cheeks flushed red in the shadows of firelight. Gladio squeezed Ignis’ shoulder, struggling to find it under the oversized hoodie. 

“Relax,” he said again, and Ignis let himself lean into the arm behind him, aware that his hair was still tangled with sweat and pond water. He probably smelled atrocious. 

“I'm impressed, though,” Gladio continued. “It's a little slutty for you, though, isn't it?” 

“There's nothing slutty about it!” Ignis cried indignantly, his hand flying to cover his hip, the space where his stomach hollowed out to meet his pelvis. “It's classy, unlike yours.”

Gladio rolled his eyes, adjusted the two of them so they were both lying down. “Hip tattoos are slutty, dude. Why’d you get it, anyway?” 

“It's called I wanted it, so I got it,” he deadpanned. Gladio would've smacked him, if he wasn't worried about Ignis’ heart stopping. 

“What is it? Didn't really get a good look.” 

Ignis sighed, letting his eyes slip closed, head still rolled back onto Gladio's forearm, before kicking down the covers and reaching for his sweatpants. 

“Don't laugh,” Ignis begged, rolling down the band of his sweats until he had the left half of his pelvis bared--careful not to show more than necessary--revealing the diamond of ink copied onto his hip. 

It was smaller than the palm of his hand, a dark diamond of the night sky contained a connect-the-dot pattern of stars. A constellation. Gladio's hands itched, fisting one of them in the fabric of his sweatpants, pulling his knees to the side as he allowed himself a closer look. 

“Canis Major,” Ignis drolled tiredly, staring at the ceiling with tired eyes and twitching under Gladio's gaze. “Loyalty.” 

“How long have you had it?” Gladio asked dumbly, feeling his lip stick to his teeth. Dry mouth. Fantastic. 

Ignis cut his gaze to Gladio--he'd recovered quickly from his bout of shyness, because his look made Gladio feel transparent. 

“Since I was eighteen. It was a birthday present from Noctis.” 

Gladio made a high pitched humming noise, and Ignis just rolled his eyes. 

“You, uh,” Gladio swallowed. “Ever think about gettin’ any more?” 

Ignis snorted. “I think one is enough--though I suppose I wouldn't be opposed to another. I'm rather fond of this one.” 

Gladio absolutely did not look when Ignis reached with a stiff hand to ghost his fingertips over the design, absolutely did not think about it, because _oh my God, his dick is right there--_

The look Ignis gave him was knowing, and Gladio withdrew his arm at an alarming, embarrassing speed. 

Ignis rolled his sweatpants back up. 

“Is that enough backstory for you, or do you wish to play twenty questions and talk about boys we like?”

Gladio shot him a warning glare, softer than it should've been. 

“You need to sleep.” 

“I'm not tired,” Ignis whined, stiffly rolling onto his stomach, his bare hand coming to cover Gladio's bare chest. If Ignis was aware he quite literally had a handful of titty, he didn't show it. 

“Sleep is gonna help you recover,” Gladio reminded. “You don't wanna miss the holiday party, do you? Gotta make everyone jealous with how hot my future husband is.” 

Ignis snorted, but shifted closer, clearly drowsy again from his medicine. 

“You sleep too,” he grumbled, nails digging into his skin, leaving behind crescent shaped marks. 

Gladio chuckled, letting his hand reach up to circle Ignis’ lithe wrist, smoothing it back down against his chest. Things were finally comfortable between them, relaxed in a way that Ignis didn't feel like a total stranger anymore. 

Gladio trusted him. 

“Can't. Gotta watch you, remember? Make sure you don't stop breathing, make sure your heart doesn't stop.” 

Ignis frowned. “You couldn't tell that from where you are anyway.” 

Gladio's brain shouldn't think the thing that it did. 

Didn't stop his damn mouth from saying it. 

“Should get up here, then.” 

Ignis cracked his eye open, and Gladio hoped his smirk was harmless, patting his chest invitingly despite Ignis’ scowl. 

“Stop trying to seduce me,” he grumbled, pushing himself up on wobbling knees nonetheless, and Gladio absolutely did not let his stomach flip over when Ignis flopped himself down between his legs, letting his cool cheek fall against his chest, hands cradled between them. 

Gladio tried really hard not to think the words _between his legs_ again, but didn't necessarily succeed.

“You're always so damn warm,” Ignis grumbled like a complaint, despite nosing closer to Gladio's throat. 

He made himself force a laugh. “You're awfully cuddly for such a stiff guy.” 

Ignis shrugged, his pale hand coming up to cup the back of Gladio's neck, pulling himself closer as if he couldn't get enough heat between them, even though Ignis was absolutely drowning in Gladio's clothes. 

“Better than what you're paying me, I suppose,” he sighed, breath ghosting between them, curling up like a fog, and Gladio couldn't believe how relieved he was to feel it. He wrapped an arm around Ignis’ waist, reminding himself he's okay, he's alive. 

Ignis chuckled, and Gladio reminded himself he's got the painkillers in his system still. This was Ignis without any filter to him at all.

“I can feel your heartbeat against my cheek.”

Gladio absolutely, not once, not once, did not think about that at all.

\----

“I'm healthy as ever. I assure you there's no reason to worry.” 

He was lying, of course, rising from the tub with shaking legs and perching himself on the edge to dry off. Still stiff, still sore, but assuredly recovering, Ignis was doing his best to resume daily activities. He'd already had an obscene number of visitors that morning--and if talking to Clarus Amicitia wasn't intimidating enough, it was worse when he was wrapped around his half naked son in bed, wearing sweats that dwarfed him with his matted hair plastered to his head. Needless to say, a bath was in order. 

Gladio promised to be just outside the door, in case anything went wrong. 

Noct's sigh rang out loudly in the bathroom due to the speaker phone and Ignis had to reach forward and turn the volume down just a pinch while he toweled his hair off. 

“I'm glad you're okay,” Noct grumbled noncommittally, knowing better than to argue. “But I wish you'd let me come see you.” 

“There's no need,” Ignis assured. “Only a few more days and then Christmas is over; I'll be on the next flight out to the mountains before you know it, yes?” 

“I guess,” Noct groaned. “Tell Gladio to fucking take better care of you, or I'm gonna kick his ass. And tell him to get you a new phone, asap.” 

“I'll relay the message,” he promised dryly. “Go have fun today. I'm sure the others are waiting on you.” 

Ignis could see Noct's shrug in his mind's eye. “Prom and I have been havin’ fun, I guess. We saw a movie yesterday.” 

“That sounds nice,” Ignis smiled. 

Noct hummed. “I guess. Wish you were here.”

“I'll be there soon; you won't have much more time to miss me.” 

“Liar.” 

\----

Ignis gave himself ample time in the bathroom; it's back to Gladio's sweats again, but he brushed his hair back out of his face, and felt a bit more like himself, even if his reflection does look an awful lot like a twelve year old snapshot of himself. 

He gave himself a hard look in the mirror, before rolling the hem of his sweatpants down just enough to reveal the top peak of his four-point diamond tattoo, half an inch of skin between where his tee ended and the hem of his pants began. 

“What in the world am I doing?” he murmured, glaring at his steely reflection, catching a glimpse of the water color bruising along his clavicle, feeling his stomach clench pleasurably. 

He didn't meet Gladio's wide-eyed stare when he lowered himself back onto the sheets. 

“So,” he sighed, sliding up to Gladio's side. “What drivel are you reading now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally intended for this to be a fluff chapter but it turned into "let's out skank each other" WHOOPS 
> 
> This fic probably has three or four chapters left, and they should be wildly different from what's gone on so far, so we'll break up some of this repetition. 
> 
> Yes, I know they cuddle an obscene about but LISTEN ok; they gay af and as a gay, I can confirm, cuddles are key. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading to the end! As always, comments and kudos are appreciated and have a wonderful weekend ♡♡♡


	8. There I Was Again Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis followed his gaze, smiling ruefully. 
> 
> “Ah,” he sighed, chin towards the sky. “Mistletoe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***PLEASE READ*** 
> 
> THIS CHAPTER HAS SEXUAL CONTENT. IF THAT'S BAD FOR YOU GET ON OUT. 
> 
> I'm gonna change the rating up to E. 
> 
> Enjoy, Gremlins

Ignis was pleasantly surprised the Amicitia kids weren't self entitled assholes. 

“Hand me the next strand, will you?” 

“I got it!” Iris yelped, dropping her ornaments back into the box as Gladio choked around his none too surreptitious handful of gingerbread men. Ignis shot him a glare. 

Iris was careful around the ladder, unlike Gladio, and handed Ignis the next tinsel strand for the crown molding. 

Perhaps it was in part due to the fact that there was something therapeutic about Christmas decorations--even on Christmas Eve itself--but it seemed to be more than that, as well. 

They clearly cared about Jared and Talcott, when they by no means had to. Iris had even let slip the other day that the reason Gladio drove such a shitty pick-up was because Clarus had cut him off after the media storm a few years back. 

It was admirable, he supposed. 

He tried too hard not to think about it. 

“Hey! Steady there, Iggy, or your gonna break your neck.” 

Gladio's balancing hand on his ass didn't help the current situation either, he knew.

“What's our count till the party-goers arrive?” Ignis called, to which Iris immediately yelled out, “Five hours and twenty-three minutes!” 

“Bloody--” 

_Slap_

“Watch your mouth around my sister.” 

The tinsel floundered out of Ignis’ hands, lilting to the floor as he froze.

“Did you just--did you just _spank_ me?” he yelped, but Gladio was still just leaning behind the ladder, smirking around a handful of gingerbread men. He shrugged. 

“Stop flirting with your boyfriend. You don't look sexy with crumbs on your face,” Iris grumbled without looking up from her box. “It's bad enough they moved you two to the room above mine. I can hear you, you know.” 

Ignis flushed, turning around and flailing his hand in an attempt to articulate something that meant _hand me the bloody tinsel, you oaf._

Gladio's fingers bled into the golden strand; Iris had taken the time to stop and paint her brothers nails a metallic hue, barely chipped, he'd left it on for the fun of it. It wasn't all that tacky, but Ignis wasn't going to admit he liked it, even if the gold brought out the soft glow to his tawny skin and amber eyes. 

He wouldn't say that. He wasn't that far gone into their scheme. Period. 

“How is it looking?” Ignis asked again, leaning over the ladder top to loop the last rope in place. 

Gladio chuckled, a steadying hand still too-warm on Ignis’ hip. 

“I'm enjoin’ the view.”

\----

The box felt heavy in his pocket. 

It was a stupid thing to think, probably, but Gladio had read it enough times that the trope seemed to prove itself in real life as he climbed the stairs, taking a steadying breath before entering their room. 

Ignis didn't even spare a glance upward at Gladiolus from where he lay sprawled on the bed, knees drawn to his chest, a book in his lap, which immediately sent a roar of blood to his ears as he smiled. 

He remembered a conversation millions of years ago with a man he didn't know who didn't like romance novels or literature, period, thank you very much; here he was now, entirely different, laying out on Gladio's bed with Gladio's dog eared paperback on his lap, chewing at his thumbnail thoughtfully with his gloves on the bedside table. 

Gladio wanted to kiss him. 

It was a horrible thought, all things considered, including what is about to occur. 

Ignis grinned, as if despite himself, around his hand. 

“That my book?” Gladio grinned, and Ignis huffed indignantly before replacing it on the bedside table, but continuing to lay with his knees rolled to the side on Gladio's half of the bed. 

“It's dreadfully boring out here when it snows, do you know that? It's all very pretty but too bloody cold to do anything. If this party wasn't tonight, we'd have to stay in bed all day,” Ignis sighed, stretching, and it didn't help Gladio in the slightest. He wondered briefly if Ignis knew what he was doing, being not only heart-stoppingly cute but also considerate. 

“You can just admit you wanted to jack off alone,” Gladio grinned, watching Ignis shrink in on himself with a glare, drawing his knees a bit closer to his chest as Gladio lowered himself onto the mattress at his feet. 

“You're so charming, I still can't believe you couldn't find a real date for this holiday event.” 

“Don't gotta be mean,” Gladio snorted, leg jittering anxiously against the floor; the motion didn't escape Ignis’ calculating gaze, so Gladio fumbled for the box in his pocket. Ripping off a bandaid. 

It should give him pause for half a second at the minimum, the way this story has gone, haphazardly puzzle-pieced together in a monstrous collage. Watching Ignis go from stranger to enemy to friend had been uncomfortable; this was different for a million different reasons. 

He knew what Ignis tasted like now, the corners of his lips and the smooth curve of his neck, both before dawn and late in the evening. He could paint the way Ignis bit down on his lip when Gladio left a mark, eyes pinched shut painfully, trying not to make a sound. Similarly, that fool-proof adoring look Ignis could plaster his expressions into, followed second only to his wide expressive laugh and his kind, fire-sparking green eyes--none of which were genuine--were all burned under Gladio's eyelids. 

Ignis had crept into his dreams, his early morning hallucinations just before he woke, all of them the same thing. 

Then there was Ignis limp, unresponsive and frozen in his arms, in his bed. Gladio's own body wet, frozen and sprinting to the house, cutting open Ignis’ cloths with shaking fingers and he'd surprised himself at how much he'd cried, how terrified he'd been. Iris had drowned once at the pool when they were children, and Gladio had pulled her to the side and saved her without issue--his legs had shook with panic, but there was something different about this. He knew Iris was tough; Ignis, though? Gladio had no fucking clue what his breaking point was. 

It was something that had manifested in their moments alone, when no one was watching and Ignis was still smiling, still touching, still kissing teasingly that Gladio was sure he must've known how it all felt in his own veins; that horrifying sensation of falling that you have right before you realize someone owns you, body and soul. 

Ignis kicked him. 

“Can I help you with something or do you intend to watch me toss off?” 

“You admit you were gonna?”

“Not to that _heavy bosom_ trash,” Ignis made a face. “Noct bought me a very heterosexual centerfold once. I had to keep that bloody thing tacked to my ceiling for four months before I came out to him--couldn't get off properly for weeks.” 

If Gladio hadn't been so damn nervous, he would've laughed harder at that, he supposed, but Ignis was still giving him that expectant look. It wasn't fair at all that Ignis could read Gladio like an open book while Gladio had to piece Ignis together like notes in an indie horror game. 

“I got you something,” Gladio coughed clunkily, shrugging as if it's nothing before reaching into his pocket. 

Ignis looked mildly panicked, shifting higher up on the pillows to get a better look at Gladio. 

“I didn't get you anything,” he protested, but Gladio had already thrown the little box on the bed between them, landing with a dull puff of air as it hit the comforter. Ignis stared dumbly. 

It was painfully obvious what it was, and Gladio's stomach was twisting awfully with every emotion Ignis’ betrayed, the primary of which being absolute horror. 

“I thought for the party tonight….” Gladio left open ended, and Ignis’ relief was palpable. 

“It's a prop, then?” he asked, lifting the little red velvet box between his fingers and extracting the silver band, running his fingers over the smooth metal, slipping it onto his fingers without a second thought. 

Gladio shrugged. “Figured it could be a bonus payment. You can pawn it off later or something, if you want.”

Ignis stared at his hand as if it were a totally foreign object; yeah, the ring hadn't been cheap, and yeah, maybe it was more than the damn check he was gonna write Ignis out anyway, but the sight it made to see Ignis slide an engagement ring on his finger? It was sick the way Gladio's brain ran wild with it, held on to that fantasy, smiling as the gap between Ignis’ lips widen. 

He wanted to kiss him again. 

Ignis shattered the romance, shrugging, turning it over and over again on his finger. 

“You're sure?”

“You've more than earned it, dude,” Gladio promised, giving Ignis’ calves a slap through the fabric of his khakis. He let his hands linger. 

“May as well keep it,” Ignis sighed, uninterested, rolling off the bed and stretching punctuated by the pops of his spine. “As a souvenir. Lord knows I'll never receive another one.” 

\----

“I'll wire the five hundred to your bank account tonight,” Gladio promised as Ignis helped him with his bowtie, slicking Gladio's hair back into a polished bun. The tux looked ridiculous on Gladio, but Ignis was glowing--due in part to Iris’ glitter highlighter, perhaps--and Gladio couldn't keep his eyes or his still-gilded nails off him. Ignis had the body for tuxedos, the confidence, the air. “After--” 

“After I fulfill my duty,” Ignis smirked. He'd recently applied chapstick, and Gladio couldn't help but be mad; no man had any right to let his lips just look like that, that good. Kissable. 

“It ain't like that--” 

“Gladiolus, please don't worry. I understand how important tonight is,” Ignis winked. His hair was flawless, frozen with product. “I'll come through for you.” 

Gladio wanted to say something more, something about how loyal and good Ignis had been the whole time, but the back of his mind was running scrolling news feed of the same sentence over and over: _I'm falling for you and I'll never deserve you._

\----

“When's your flight?” 

Ignis blinked owlishly at him, finishing applying mascara, even though Gladio had laughed at the appearance of Ignis making such a ridiculous face in the mirror. 

“There's a flight about four on the twenty-sixth. That should give me enough time to pack and say my goodbyes, yes?” 

Gladio nodded, mouth dry. “I'll drive you to the airport.” 

Ignis nodded, nonplussed. After a beat or twelve of silence, Gladio piped up again. 

“It's gonna suck around here without you, you know. Boring with just me and Iris.” 

Ignis laughed, his face warmly illuminated by the overhead bathroom light. 

“You've been surviving for nearly twenty-five years without me; you'll manage somehow.” 

“She'll miss you,” he tried again.

Ignis smiled sadly at his own reflection. 

“You mustn't forget to tell them, you know,” he called softly. 

“What?” 

“We'll have to break up sometime between now and spring break,” Ignis murmured, slicking on more chapstick. “I thought I'd tell you now, in case I didn't see you between now and then.” 

The sound of Gladio's heart splintering in his chest was audible. 

\----

Ignis didn't want to talk ever again, not in the near future, not ever. 

There was a possibility this was the last night he'd have an excuse to kiss Ignis when he wanted, hold him close, whisper something particularly soft in his ear. No more holding hands. No more late nights with Ignis on his chest, eyes burning and tongue on his neck until one of them has to excuse themselves to take care of an issue of sorts. 

No more Ignis, witty and open and sarcastic. He could hardly recall the Ignis from campus, closed off and robotic. 

No more Ignis, period. 

This revelation was painful for obvious reasons, besides the fact that it meant Ignis didn't reciprocate the emotions metastasizing in Gladio's chest; Ignis didn't even care to be friends. 

This experience hadn't changed him at all, which was beyond unfair. Gladio could still feel the ghost Ignis’ fingerprints all over his skin, burning like a brand. 

Tonight was important, alright.

How in the world to convince him to stay? 

\----

Over two hundred people were shoved inside the Amicitia mansion. 

Not too terrible a number by any stretch, especially considering they were all filtering between parlor rooms and dining areas, several gathered in front of the tv of one room listening boredly to _It's a Wonderful Life_ (which, as Ignis found out, Gladio knew every word to) while the politicians smoozed. 

Gladio had lived through twenty-four Amicitia Christmas Eve parties, even when they'd begun small. Clarus wasn't shy about the guest list, everyone from coworkers to high-grossing supporters were invited (a hybrid group that you rarely wanted to mingle), but usually the combination of champagne, chocolate, and Iris and Talcott singing an off-key rendition of _Baby It's Cold Outside_ managed to keep the peace. 

The lights were low and the chattering volume spun high, but Gladio managed to work the room with ease, well aware this could be his last party as a non-Senator, if this next year went as his father intended it. 

He introduced Ignis as his boyfriend when people asked, but usually as “the Junior aide to President Caelum.” It was a stretch of the truth and earned Gladio a hard pinch to the ass every time it was said, but it was worth it. 

Ignis was on his third champagne early into the night. 

There were loads of familiar faces--no important politicians and therefore no paparazzi--and Gladio was too at ease to realize there should be warning alarms signaling in his head when he saw Aranea strutting towards him a shimmering red gown that left little to the imagination, her hips nearly shaking the house to the ground the way she was moving them. 

Ignis felt him stiffen, followed his gaze, and smiled ruefully. 

“Ah,” he sighed. “Your lady love. Since she's in on our little secret, I'll excuse myself for some air, shall I?” 

“Don't go far,” Gladio mumbled with furrowed brows--there shouldn't be an ache in his chest when life decided to exchange Ignis for Aranea, something weeks ago Gladio would've died for. He made sure to lean down and give Ignis a proper kiss, chaste as it is, before Ignis waved him away and retreated to a more secluded section of the mansion. 

Aranea’s perfectly penciled brows were in her hair. 

“Here I thought I was saving your ass and turns out you've got it covered by two sexy gloved hands. How'd you James Bond to play your little games?” 

“I thought you were in China,” Gladio accused. “I believe your exact excuse was ‘drowning in pussy’ if I'm not mistaken.” 

Aranea nearly snapped the stem of her wine glass. “Would it kill you to keep your voice down, Bumble the Abominable? Some of us are actually projected to win our seats.” 

Gladio didn't bother to respond. 

“It didn't work out with the girl,” Aranea grumbled. “She was in love with someone else and--well, you know that mess. You dated Cindy.” 

If Gladio could've slammed himself against the wall, he would've. He settled for draining the rest of Aranea’s wine, ignoring her amused glance. 

“What's up with the Jessica Rabbit get-up?” Gladio grumbled, not bothering to look away from her chest. “You tryna get laid or are we bobbing for apples in your cleavage?” 

“Hilarious,” Aranea sighed. “But Fleuret is here. I'd rather have him licked before we end up working together; he needs to know he can't fuck with me.” 

“You're gonna sleep with Fleuret?” Gladio made a face, immediately scanning the room. The fucker was practically seven foot tall, he should've been easy to spot. 

Aranea shook her head. “I'm gonna make him think he can and then pull it right out from under him. Either that or make sure he knows I can kick his ass and fuck his sister--I'm not entirely sure he's not bi.” 

Gladio blinked, reeling back the emotions of rage that stirred whenever Ravus was mentioned. “Bi?” 

Aranea stared back, her wine-stained smile spreading slowly over her features. “Oh, shit. You have no fucking clue, do you? Say, where'd your boyfriend go, anyhow?” 

\----

“I must say I didn't anticipate on seeing you here tonight. I can't say I'm disappointed.” 

The book in Ignis’ hand clattered to the floor, echoing around the abandoned library ominously, sending goosebumps up Ignis’ arms and shivers up his spine.

Perhaps it had less to do with the dark, empty room and more to do with the voice that signaled a presence he hadn't known in a long time.

“Ravus,” Ignis deadpanned, politeness gone from his tone. He couldn't decided if he was terrified, angry, or a little turned on. Years of separation hadn't dulled the fact Ignis had never sealed away and sorted the emotions he'd been left with. 

“You look lovely.” 

Ignis made himself turn. Ravus had closed the door behind him, leaning against the solid oak with a wry smile on his features that reminded Ignis how small he felt whenever Ravus was around; Ravus, always keenly aware that when he said _jump_ Ignis would ask _how high?_

His human hand was cradling the wrist of his prosthetic, giving him the appearance of crossing his arms. If he didn't know any better, he'd hardly notice it was any different. Ravus usually wore the hand tucked into his pocket, causing him to look like a model nearly everywhere he went. 

Ravus, the war vet. Ravus, the hero. Ravus, the politician. 

Ignis could still taste him on the backs of his teeth. 

The fact that Ravus had walked around for years now with all this information on Ignis was unsettling, to say the least, even more so when Ignis remembered the type of person he'd been at nineteen; bright eyed, eager to please, and utterly pathetic. Agreeing to be an aide on Ravus’ governor campaign had seemed like a wonderful career move. 

Then, suddenly, everything he did with Ravus became just that: a career move. Ignis justified it everytime he stayed out too late, woke up too early, sticky and too warm with Ravus’ mouth at his ear. 

Here he was, all these years later with Gladiolus. 

Perhaps it should've been funny, but all Ignis felt was sick. 

Still, it melted again when Ravus smiled, so familiar, the praise of it always reaffirming for Ignis to see. 

“What in the world are you doing hiding in here, darling?” Ravus smirked, sauntering forward in a way that made Ignis glad he was leaning against a table for support. 

Ignis had never been in love, but God, he'd come close. 

Or so he'd thought. 

“Why did you follow me all the way out here when you knew I was hiding?” 

Ravus was so close now Ignis could smell his sharp cologne, dizzying, associated with dozens of frantic memories floating around Ignis’ brain that were better left untouched; frantic press sessions, crowded tour bus nights between rallies, Ignis’ first decent kiss, his first time, moments of idyllic ludicy still early in the morning with Ravus’ pale hands weaving through the ashy strands of Ignis’ hair, his head resting on the governor's chest. 

Overwhelming, as if the man he'd become at twenty-three had deteriorated somehow.

Ravus chuckled amicably. “I couldn't very well not speak to you; not when you're here, looking like that...with him.” 

Ignis exhaled heavily, Ravus stopping courteously a few paces away. 

“And I felt as though this discussion might be more conducive to a more private environment,” Ravus said, suddenly solemn in a disingenuous way. “I hated the way our last parting was orchestrated.” 

He would've done better not to mention it at all, Ignis mused, scoffing away Ravus’ puppy eyes. 

“Which part?” Ignis drolled. “The one where I promised to follow you to the ends of the earth or the part where you fired me directly after sleeping with me? Or was my bedroom performance unsatisfactory that day too--” 

“Ignis!” Ravus hissed, stepped forward now, letting his prosthetic fall limp to utilize his other hand in covering Ignis’ mouth, until the smaller boy ducked away. “Discretion, please. You know nothing like that happened.” 

“You're a creep,” Ignis snarled. “You knew you were playing me for a fool--” 

“You asked!” Ravus accused, before schooling his features to a mask of calm. 

Ignis had to take a moment to steady himself, horror washing over him. How many of his own mannerisms were copy and pasted from this man he'd admired for so long? How could someone like Luna be so kind, and someone like Ravus so wrong? 

“I wanted to oblige you before.” 

“Before you fired me,” Ignis finished. “You should've told me before hand. You were the adult in this whole situation; you're a creep.” 

“I grow so weary of the child card, dearest,” Ravus, still smiling, took a step closer. “It's not as if I were merely a bystander to our charade, you know. I had feelings as well. I did what I had to do because I wanted you to succeed.” 

“Is that what you tell yourself or is that the story you've practiced to tell the press should this all come out?” Ignis drolled, dropping himself to lean against a bookcase. “And I'm less than interested in your feelings now.” 

“So I can see,” Ravus sighed, his line of sight unmistakably drawn to Ignis’ hand, the ring twinkling on his finger, before flicking his gaze back up. “That's not what I've come to ask of you.” 

The panic in Ignis’ chest had subsided, for the most part; the awful thing about Ravus’ memory being tainted by one terrible one, was that every soft moment they've ever shared is blurred around the edges now, cured with this mistake.

Ravus still had the power to make Ignis weak in the knees. Ignis could hardly bear to watch him on the television anymore, spouting out the same words he'd once told Ignis so passionately at two am while Ignis traced his fingertips over the planes of his stomach, tripping over his ribs, counting out freckles with his lips as Ravus laughed fondly. 

The ghost of realest romantic relationship Ignis had ever experienced was looming over him, tipping his chin back with a finger, and asking him to dance. 

It wasn't a wonder Ignis believed love wasn't in the cards. 

\----

He shouldn't kiss Ravus, but he did. 

Shouldn't let Ravus push him back against the bookcases, nose against his cheek and bite lovingly at his lower lip, but he did. It was as easy as it had been that short while ago, and Ignis was horrified to realize Ravus still had his memories stored away, kissing Ignis the same way he always had, using his soft hand to cup Ignis’ jaw, delicate as ever. 

There was nothing romantic in it, no pretext to speak of. The words they'd spoken in the past were winding through Ignis’ head, every loving kiss Ravus had ever pressed to his bare shoulder and every night they'd spent learning one another all vivid and fresh in his mind. 

It was easy, familiar. Ignis let himself have this, knowing full well he won't get it from anyone else, never again, because there's only so many people he trusts this to. The fact that it's Ravus should probably be alarming, but Ignis let it happen, Ignoring the words of praise Ravus sometimes muttered in his ear. 

A gift to himself, easy enough. 

It was more melancholy than it should feel, a death row meal. 

\----

It took Ignis an embarrassingly long time to remember. 

It doesn't find him until Ravus has worked his suit most of the way off, kissing down his bare chest with his intent quite clear that Ignis shouted, “Gladio!” and nearly punts Ravus in the face on accident. 

Ignis’ fingers shook as they redid the buttons on his shirt, smoothing back his hair and willing the issue in his pants to die down, leaning against the bookcase and stammering out apologies to Ravus, but his fiance is waiting on him. 

Ignis could maim himself in all seriousness, he's so appalled. He didn't think Ravus would actually tell anyone--Ignis knew much too much, and revenge was far too sweet to pass up that opportunity--but Ignis was mostly worried Ravus would tell Gladio just to fuck with him. 

It occurred to him several minutes later that had probably been the governor's plan the whole time. 

Ignis was suffocating. 

He replaced the displaced novels back on the shelf as Ravus lowered himself to a chair, head in his hands. 

“You must care about him a great deal then, hmm?” Ravus asked, seemingly dejected, and Ignis sighed, sliding back into his role. 

“I should've had the self control not to begin in the first place; however, I'm truthfully sorry about leading you on.” 

That had been awful thing about loving Ravus; he was a snake. His intentions were never clear, never selfless, and you never knew what was true. 

“I suppose we're even now. Tell Amicitia I'm pleased he's changed his policy on recycling.I know when I'm beaten.” 

\----

Gladio found Ignis alone in the library nearly an hour later, bent over a book he hadn't been reading. His fingers itched to text Noctis, but vomiting out the fact he'd nearly ridden the governor in the library of his faux-fiances mansion didn't seem like the sort of thing he should have in writing. 

“You okay, pal?” Gladio giggled, lowering himself beside Ignis onto the couch at the back of the room, near the windows. The blinds were drawn, but if you peaked out just enough you could catch the light that shown from the moon onto the snow. 

“I've had too much to drink, I believe,” Ignis groaned, head in his hand. 

Gladio chuckled. “I hear that. I had to see that Aranea got a cab, otherwise I wouldn't have left you alone for so long.” 

Ignis shrugged. “The solitude was a nice change.” 

Gladio sighed, glancing to the side. 

“I'm gonna ask you somethin’ that I heard tonight,” he began slowly. “And you don't gotta answer, but--” 

“Yes, Ravus and I were involved for a period of time.” 

Gladio blinked. “How did you--”

“You forget Aranea can get any information out of anyone with nearly no alcohol needed,” Ignis chuckled dryly, folding the book shut on his lap. 

“Uh,” Gladio began. “How long?” 

“A year.” 

“You loved him.” 

Ignis snorted. “As much as a teenager can love anyone, I suppose.” 

“I'm sorry. Love is a shitty emotion to feel.” 

Ignis shrugged again. Gladio stole the book from his lap, thumbed to a middle chapter and let himself begin reading. Ignis leaned back against his chest, the two of them stretched across the long couch side by side. 

\----

It took a string of of silly emojis from Iris for Gladio to realize was going on. Ignis had been too melancholy all night, wordlessly leaning against Gladio and fiddling with his cufflinks, and Gladio should've been worried, said something, but Gladio was just thrilled to share his warmth. Occasionally, Ignis would sigh and let his head thump back against Gladio's chest. 

Their bow ties were undone, suit jackets long forgotten, and Gladio could see the lines of Ignis’ tank top cut under his shirt, along with the shadows of beauty marks through the thin material. They weren't far from the library's fire, and the warmth between them was so comfortable, Gladio doubted he'd want to move by the time it was time for bed, even if all the party goers had gone. 

Gladio studied the emojis again, confused as to why Iris kept asking about their location, before he finally had the idea to take a glance at his surroundings, and groaned. 

He wasn't sure if it was God playing tricks on him, or if it was strictly Iris. 

“What is it?” Ignis sighed, his voice strained and thin-sounding, as if he were exhausted. When he turned to glance at Gladio, he braced his hand on Gladio's thigh, warmth defusing through him immediately.

Ignis followed his gaze, smiling ruefully. 

“Ah,” he sighed, chin towards the sky. “Mistletoe.” 

“Early Christmas gift from Iris,” Gladio chuckled. “We, uh, obviously don't have to.” 

“I'm well aware of my rights, Gladiolus,” Ignis chuckled, letting himself fall back against Gladio's chest again, this time chest to chest, Ignis’ hands sleepy over his stomach. The alcohol had worn off by now, but they two of them were lethargic from the warmth and the human contact, not to mention what a long two weeks this had been. 

“Mistletoe is dumb,” Gladio grumbled, letting the novel tumble off his lap onto the floor, immediately focusing on Ignis; hands in the man's hair, another on his back, rubbing in soothing circles. 

“Indeed.” 

It had never been this hard to get someone to kiss him before. There'd been situations in Gladio's life where he'd actually had to pry people off of him, but here he was with Ignis, falling faster than he ever had, and projecting his kissability louder than he ever had. Nothing. Ignis couldn't care less. 

Gladio didn't wanna give up. 

“Thanks again for coming out here and doing this,” Gladio sighed when Ignis slid closer, up his lap. He might've felt something, or he might've imagined it, but the part of Gladio's body that had shut down with alcohol was suddenly wide awake; he prayed Ignis couldn't feel it. “You have no fuckin’ clue how much I owe you.” 

“I believe it's five hundred dollars,” Ignis huffed amicably, smiling up at Gladio with a smirk that should absolutely be outlawed for the things it's making Gladio's blood do. 

“Can't say it hasn't been fun,” Gladio accused, shifting his knee up so that Ignis had more room between Gladio's legs--he realized too late it was probably a poor decision. He knew he looked panicked. 

Ignis’ eyes sparked. 

“Hm,” he murmured disingenuously, glancing back up at the mistletoe hanging ominously overhead. It felt more like a guillotine at this point, the way Ignis lowered his gaze back to Gladio. 

“Seems rather pretentious of us, don't you think, to ignore centuries worth of tradition?” 

Gladio expected to see that knowing smirk on Ignis’ features when he spared him a glance, but instead caught something much softer, unguarded. Ignis with half-lidded eyes and parted lips in the low light of Gladio's library was something Gladio at fifteen might've dreamed up on a whim on a lazy Saturday; here it was delivered to him, Ignis quite literally in his lap, eyes uncertain. Nervous. Ignis was nervous, shaking in his lap. 

“You wanna kiss me?” Gladio whispered, his voice embarrassingly gravelly. Ignis made a low noise in the back of his throat. Nodded. 

Gladio couldn't bite back on his smile. 

“Then kiss me.” 

\----

Ignis’ namesake had never been more evident than this moment. 

Gladio had remembered their chaste kisses during every early morning shower, head tilted against the tile, trying desperately to pretend he wasn't doing exactly what he was doing. He remembered kissing Ignis on their bed, his own hands in his lap and Ignis’ fingertips on his jaw. He remembered the soft silk of Ignis’ always rosy mouth ghosting over his low lip and sucking marks into his neck slowly, tender as if to keep the ache at bay. He remembered Ignis’ hands on his hips, the both of them shaking with the effort to keep still, keep it as clinical as possible, all of it flying under the guise of platonic affection. 

Ignis burned it all to the ground. 

Gladio was growling low in his throat before Ignis had him flat on his back, the couch barely large enough to contain the both of them as Ignis canted his hips down, grinding up recklessly fast against Gladio's hips, that had Gladio gasping moments before Ignis slammed his mouth down again over Gladio's. 

It was the kind of hookup you dreamed about at sixteen, all roaring fire and throbbing bodies and warm skin as someone above you either tore you to pieces or fell apart themselves. 

Ignis made little noises when he kissed Gladio, his eyes screwed up in concentration and his fists tight in Gladio's shirt. He was scowling everytime he pulled his lips away, before leaning leaning back down to drink more of the sighs from Gladio's rough lips. 

It should've been embarrassing. Kissing Ignis with too much energy and too much teeth, grinding up into one another through their dress pants like prom night, but it wasn't. 

Gladio used to laugh when Iris made wishes on snowflakes. Now, he was starting to wonder if the really came true. 

\----

Racing down the hall to avoid party-goers wasn't the worst part of attempting to making it back to the safety of their room. Ignis stopped them every few feet, shoving Gladio into an alcove to press more wet kisses to his clavicle, stinging over the fading hickies and grinding down onto Gladio's thigh while clutching at his shoulders as if he could fall apart there in the hall, sighing softly in Gladio's ear. 

Gladio ended up practically carrying him to their room, slamming the door shut with his foot and dropping Ignis delicately down onto the plush rug before the still-warm fireplace. Ignis never unlocked his legs from Gladio's waist, but assisted him in his quest of removing their shirts. Ignis batted his hands away from his pants, using his ankle to drag Gladio's thigh back down between his legs. 

The skin on skin of their chests was wonderful, and Gladio didn't hesitate before letting his hands roam over Ignis’ chest and arms, reaching under his shoulders to press him closer as Ignis grinded up aimlessly onto Gladio's thigh, letting out a ragged moan that had them both slowing, moving in small circles, lest things end too quickly. 

“Are we really doing this?” Ignis asked, releasing one of Gladio's biceps in favor of pushing his now limp hair from his eyes. His glasses are slanted on his face, magnifying the high color on his cheek bones. The intensive warmth from the fire has his bare skin red, and Gladio wanted to run kisses across his ribs until Ignis was sobbing. 

Gladio stilled his trembling hips, pulling away. 

“You wanna stop?” 

Ignis closed his eyes. He bit on his lip when he was thinking, and Gladio watched the steady rise and fall of his chest for several moments. 

Ignis let out another shaking breath, replacing his hands on Gladio's arms for better leverage. “No. I want to.” 

Gladio didn't need to be told twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! 
> 
> Two more chapters to go? 
> 
> Thanks for reading to end and have a great week!


	9. I Do Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He should've known he couldn't get this lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thanks again for all the love and support throughout this whole journey! This is almost officially my most popular fic for this Fandom on ao3, so thanks so much for reading! 
> 
> WARNING: more smut, only at the beginning of this chapter. 
> 
> Here we go

“We should've been doing this years ago,” Gladio groaned, and Ignis echoed by chuckling lightly, smiling brighter than he out to. His brightness wasn't diminished by biting down on his lip, head rolled to the side to expose the tawny lines of his throat, even as the firelight died beside them. 

They'd never ended up making it to the bed, but Gladio couldn't even say he minded all that match. Nude, save for a pair of boxer briefs, Ignis had laughed through most of their awkward encounter as Gladio lavished him best he could. 

“I'm afraid I'd never considered you to be an option,” Ignis admitted, staring into the fire and stretching his bare hand out toward the warmth. 

Gladio leaned down to press another open mouthed kiss over Ignis’ ribs, manhandling his hips until they were tilted off the ground to run his lips over the plains of his stomach, nose skirting through the downy hair below his navel. 

Ignis looked younger like this: glowing in the fight light, nearly nude, wet lips and boxers and bruised neck. Gladio had been careful not to leave marks during this encounter, but there were red marks thin as pin-pricks that occurred in bramble patches from Gladio's beard across Ignis’ chest and pale inner thighs. 

Gladio tried to remember what Ignis felt like before this, tried to recall every look, touch and conversation that seemed so insignificant before; thousands of words, all of them useless, filler, smalltalk that meant nothing. 

A waste of years. How could he have never seen him like this before now?

Ignis was still biting back on the smile that threatened to split across his face, bare hands stuffed in his messy hair as Gladio teased along the surface of his skin. 

“I take it this means you wish to go again?” 

“You ready?” Gladio asked eagerly, his messy bun slapping at the back of his head with how fast his neck snapped up. Ignis smiled, nodding slowly. 

“Uh-huh,” he sighed, biting down his lip for an entirely different reason now, hips canting up out of Gladio's hands as he sighed, letting his body relax back into the carpet. Gladio felt his own body reacting immediately, watching the front of Ignis’ boxers darken again just a shade or so, grinding up into nothingness. “Yes, whenever you're--” 

Ignis whined when Gladio lowered himself back over him again, immediately pressing his hips against Ignis’ clothed groin, grinding them together until Ignis arched up into the contact, pulling at Gladio's hair uselessly. 

It was a slow pace, cautious, and Gladio lowered his face to tuck it in hollow of Ignis’ neck, placing feather kisses there. 

Not such strangers anymore. 

\----

“Now who takes too many selfies?” Ignis groaned with a laugh, struggling to roll away with his feet caught up in the blankets as dawn broke behind the curtains. The fire had died long ago, and somewhere along the way they'd moved to the bed and perhaps slept a little, but Gladio's hands had never stopped their reverent praise over Ignis’ skin. 

Gladio politely slapped his phone back onto the nightstand, grinning brightly. 

“Can't help it,” he murmured. “You look good like that.” 

The ring was still on his finger. 

He should've known he couldn't get this lucky. 

\----

Ignis was half packed by the time Gladio woke, and already dressed while Gladiolus lumbered over in his ruined boxers with sticky skin. Ignis batted him away with a laugh but accepted the deep kiss Gladio offered lethargically before turning back to folding his clothes. 

“Iris is probably waitin’ on us downstairs, ya know,” he groaned. “I was gonna offer a shower with ya, but--” 

“In your dreams,” Ignis snorted. “Mutual showers are a disaster waiting to happen. But,” he sighed. “I thought perhaps we might talk about last night?” 

Gladio nodded, scratching at the back of his sleep-knotted ponytail. “That's fair. We got stuff to work out.” 

Ignis nodded, running his hands over his impeccable button up as if to smooth out nonexistent wrinkles. 

“I'd prefer it if we didn't tell the others,” he started immediately, Gladio's brain grinding to a halt with the unexpected comment. “I don't mind to continue this...relationship when school continues, but this is your final semester, and school work will always come first for me--” 

“What relationship are you referrin’ to?” Gladio choked out, rising from where he was leaning against the bedpost. 

The flash of panic in Ignis’ eyes, dull in comparison to the fire that had flickered in them just hours before, reminded Gladio to back the fuck off; the shitty thing about being a big guy, a rich guy, a guy with a dad who had control of the country's entire military meant that people were scared of you--not in the _oh no stay away_ sort of way, but more like _oh no I can't say no_ situation, which was beyond fucked up. 

Gladio shrunk against the wall. 

Ignis gestured between them with pale fingers, gloveless, his ring glinting in the pale morning light of the room. 

“This,” he tried slowly, using a voice Gladio hadn't heard since their car ride over here, speaking to Gladio as if he were an idiot. He pursed his lips, as if unsure where to go. “Relationship. I understood it to be physical--and I'm realizing now...you didn't?” 

Gladio wished for one goddamn minute Ignis couldn't read him like a book. 

“Gladio, I really am very sorry. I should've realized--” 

“It's fine.” 

“You're upset. Gladio, I honestly didn't have a clue, otherwise, I promise you I _never_ would have--”

“I said it's fine,” Gladio snarled, wishing he didn't take up so much space, wishing Ignis wasn't blocking his only exit. 

Ignis exhaled, looking panicked at the floor, flexing his hands until he decided they were safer in his pockets. 

“I understand that I took advantage; it was never my intention. I understand if you want me to leave sooner rather than later, or should you wish to terminate our friendship.” 

Gladio had expected this sort of moment to feel hot in an itching way, with burning ears and shaking hands. Yeah, he wanted to run, but something about the scene felt too slow, as if he were given an infinite amount of reaction time and no fucking options. 

“That's not what I want.” 

Ignis glanced up pointedly. “Tell me how to fix this, then.” 

Gladio shouldn't have laughed. What he should've done was slept last night instead of keeping his head pressed against Ignis chest and fantasizing about all the things they'd spend the rest of their lives doing because he was just that in love. 

He was an idiot, is what he was. 

He laughed anyway, wet and angry, keeping his eyes trained on the wall away from Ignis. 

“Tell me you're falling in love with me?”

He chanced a glance up, just in time to catch Ignis’ rosebud lips part, pity flickering across his features like a flood; he doesn't even try to wipe it away.

“Gladiolus,” he murmured. “It's only been a few days.” 

Gladio could've doubled over from the insult; he knew Ignis was right, too, but Gladio knew what the bubbling feeling in his chest was. He didn't doubt he'd had feelings. 

Ignis met his gaze and Gladio had to bite down on his lip to keep himself in check--Ignis could hardly hold back his expression of horror, perhaps disgust, who could tell? 

“This friendship is more important to me than you know. But I don't,” Ignis paused, taking a deep breath. “I simply _can't_ fall in love that fast. I'm so sorry.” 

“You have to feel something,” Gladio couldn't believe he was begging, but here he was, watching Ignis ball a tee in his fists, looking horrified as a grown man bent before him. He can't fucking take no for an answer. “Last night--” 

“Last night I was...not in my right mind,” Ignis groaned, his expression pleading. “I should've known better. I'll acknowledge there's been a build-up, but Gladiolus, you've got to know somewhere this is just a chemical reaction inside your head. Guys like you don't like men like me. Your response is more than natural, I assure you, but--” 

“Try,” Gladio whispered, pinching his eyes shut. “Try for me, please.” 

Ignis swallowed, ducking his head, scowling pitifully at the floor. Gladio was half glad he couldn't make out his eyes behind the glare of his glasses. 

“I'm going to say something,” Ignis sighed heavily, pacing out his words again. “I don't say it to be hurtful, I just need you to understand.” 

Ignis cut his glare up, composed, cool, neutral. He's the Ignis that haunts the campus halls behind Noctis Caelum’s shoulder, scary and domineering. 

It was a facade. It always had been. 

God, he wore it so well. 

Everything about his gaze pierces Gladiolus. There's no remorse in his eyes, no tears, and no more pity. It's worse. 

“You aren't my type. I understand you aren't used to hearing that, but I suggest you get it in your head sooner rather than later. I came into this agreement with the understanding this would be a professional arrangement and the fact that you've caught feelings is more an infringement upon my rights than of your own. 

Furthermore, having been here for two weeks, spending time with you and your family I couldn't be more positive than when I say that this is the last possible future I would ever wish to secure for myself. Honestly, the way I've been treated here, you expect me to call this the idyllic holiday getaway every year? 

You're a handsome man, Gladiolus. You're kind and you're smart and you're charismatic; but you're the last man on earth I could ever develop feelings for. I'm very sorry.”

\----

Gladio was numb. 

Ignis was on his lap, grinning brightly at Iris as she plowed through another wrapped box. He was nursing a coffee cup, warm on Gladio's knee, and every so often Ignis would scratch the back of Gladio's head lovingly and offer him a sip. 

“Ignis!” Iris gasped, pulling a kitten shaped makeup kit from the box, followed by a pink silk dress that looked none too cheap. “You shouldn't have!” 

“The kit is from Noctis,” Ignis smiled amicably at her, squeezing Gladio's shoulder lovingly for show. “The dress is from me. I saw you eyeing it in the store.” 

“I can't wait to wear this to school! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” 

Ignis accepted her barreling hug with a red face and an awkward pat on the back before his phone chirping on the coffee table broke the three of them apart. Clarus, of course, was too busy with work in his study to watch them open gifts. If Gladio had to bet, he was most likely just avoiding he and Ignis, as well as the entirety of this fucked up holiday. 

Ignis’ words ricocheted around his brain, each barb sticking again and again and try as hard as he might, Gladio knew there was no one to blame this time but himself. 

“Excuse me while I take this, please carry on,” he murmured, rising from Gladio and turning to the corner before calling our a quick “Merry Christmas” in to the line. 

When Gladio turned his attention back to Iris, she was glaring at him. 

“What?” he growled, but Iris just arched her eyebrow, before nodding back to Ignis, who looked as though he'd seen a ghost. 

He looked like he was gonna pass out. 

Gladio was on his feet in a moment. 

“No, yes, bloody--Gen, just give me the hospital number. If I'm his emergency contact they'll give me the information--” 

“Everything good?” Gladio asked, reaching out to him even as he slapped his hands away. 

“I'll be there as bloody soon as I--it's Christmas, Gentiana, the roads are empty; I'll be quick as soon as I can rent a car.” 

That didn't sound good. 

“Iggy, what's going on?” 

“Iris, please tell Jared to get my bags ready--” 

“Ignis,” Gladio tried again when they were alone, the sound of Iris’ feet obediently stomping away echoing around them. 

“Noctis and Prompto are in the hospital--bloody, where's my fucking _coat?_ ” Ignis growled, pausing only to turn and give Gladio a sad look. “I'm so sorry, I have to leave--” 

Jared was in the doorway, Ignis’ half-packed bags in his hands. Gladio's mouth quivered. 

“Are they okay?” 

“I don't--I don't know, Gladio, I have to go, please,” he begged. “Please.” 

Gladio didn't think he'd ever see Ignis Scientia cry. Until five minutes ago, it wasn't exactly something on his bucket list. It wasn't pretty. 

“Take my truck,” Gladio said immediately, stomping toward the dish by the front door. Ignis was staring. 

“I couldn't--” 

“Take it--and stop crying, or you'll crash. I'm sure they're fine, Iggy, okay?” 

“Gentiana said there'd been an accident in the ski shed--” 

“Ignis,” Gladio murmured, fighting the urge to reach out and touch him. Ignis looked braced for a kiss, but they'd gained an audience of three at this point, even without Clarus in attendance. Gladio wasn't going to do it, not now, not when Ignis was this vulnerable. 

This was happening too fast. He was supposed to have time to apologize, time to make this mess right between them. 

He wouldn't get it. 

Ignis was folded in on himself, crying so hard he could barely see. 

“Be safe.”

Gladio handed him the keys, and the hug Ignis gave him was brief but fierce, stealing Gladio's leather jacket from the hook and sprinting out the door into the cold morning air. 

It had to have been less than five minutes. 

Ignis was gone for good. 

\----

Gladio had never been body slammed into a dollhouse by a fourteen year old girl before. 

It appeared there really was a first time for everything. 

“Are you fucking moron?” 

“I'm not in the mood to play, Iris,” Gladio grumbled. With this filed away as the second worst Christmas in Amicitia history, Gladio planned to spend the rest of the day in bed, crying, turning his head into the pillow that Ignis had slept in like a fucking creep until numbness spread across his body. 

“Will you listen to me?” Iris hissed, kicking her door shut and locking it. “You're just gonna let him go?” 

“Excuse me? Iris, we're engaged, he's coming back--” 

Iris groaned loudly, falling back onto her bed. “You two think I'm really fucking dumb, don't you?” 

Gladio blinked, feeling vaguely dizzy. The odds that his subconscious had produced such a vivid dream was unlikely, and yet here was his baby sister, fucking owning him on the worst day of his life. What else was new. 

“I'm sorry?” 

Iris rolled her eyes. “Your room is right above mine, remember?” she pointed to the ceiling. “And besides being thoroughly fucking traumatized--you're paying for new ear buds, you sick creep--I've been onto your game for nearly a week now.” 

“Iris, I, uh--” 

“Save it, I don't give a shit. I'm not telling dad or Jared or whatever, you have your reasons. That fucking soap opera shit that woke me up this morning? You're gonna pull that shit on his ass and then not even go with him to get Noctis? Are you crazy?” she nearly screamed. 

Gladio either had the lower half of a barbie doll stuck up his ass, or Iris was making some sense. 

“He wouldn't have been making all that nasty fucking noises last night--you're paying for my fucking therapy too, creep--if he wasn't into you. Trust me. You're kinda fugly.” 

“Thanks,” Gladio glared from his place on the floor, unmoving. “What do you suggest I do, oh relationship guru?” 

“It's like you've never seen a movie in your life,” she mused to herself. “Boring and ugly is a bad combination. Go get him, idiot! Are you an Amicitia or not?” 

\----

“Luna? Hey! No, it's--it's Gladio. Is Noct okay? Prom? Listen. I need the address of where you guys are stayin’. It's important.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm well aware this is reading very rushed; I'll be honest and say I wanted this fic done eons ago. I actually decided to change the way the story ended today in my brainstorming process (I had a good ending I knew I would do, a "bad" ending I preferred, and I ended up settling on something entirely different and somewhere in the middle. Hopefully it will be up before the end of the week.) 
> 
> Friendly reminder this fic was supposed to be a one-shot less than 10k words. I'm so in love with all the support and feedback I've received. Thanks again for reading and have a wonderful day ♡♡♡♡


	10. I Said Remember This Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I meant what I said, Gladiolus,” Ignis tried, softer this time. The distance between them was several feet, and every inch in both of them wanted to cross the divide. “And I want this friendship to continue, so please do us both a favor and don't say something you'll regret.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The ending!!! 
> 
> First off I wanna say thank you so, so much for reading this story out to the end. This was supposed to be a one-shot 10k story that snowballed into something a bit deeper than I anticipated it being. Forgive me for rushing it so much, but there are other projects that need my attention more rn. 
> 
> Thanks so much for all the wonderful comments, both in-depth analysis and keyboard smashing screams made me feel so blessed. The feedback for this fic was larger than I anticipated, so thanks to everyone who shared their comments and left a kudos ♡ 
> 
> I hope this ending meets your expectations. It's rushed, and there's so much more I wanted to say, but I wasn't gonna drag ya'll out for 30 more chapters. 
> 
> Here we go ♡

“You're an idiot,” Noctis grumbled for the millionth time, watching Ignis throw his head into his hands with an exaggerated groan. 

“Yes, I believe we established that,” he grumbled, letting his head slump against the back of the couch, returning his hands to Prompto's outstretched leg, holding his plaster-covered ankle protectively between his palms. 

The three of them were smashed together on the couch--Noct and Ignis on opposite ends with Prompto's still sore body pressed between them--with Noct sandwiched behind Prompto and the smaller boy balanced between his hips, his legs on Ignis’ lap. 

“I suppose I could be worse,” Ignis mused, glaring at the massive fireplace featured in the cabin’s ornate den. “I suppose I could've mysteriously spent the night in a ski shed and miraculously displaced two tons worth of equipment, when I'm staying in a deluxe cabin with thirty bedrooms.” 

His eyes cut back to the pair, seeking their reaction, but the two of them managed to keep their expressions neutral (Prompto had become rather impressive, especially with the aid of painkillers). Despite asking nearly one hundred times, Noctis still hadn't told him what had really happened to warrant an ER visit on Christmas day. 

More importantly, though, Noctis was fine and Prompto escaped with a fractured femur--and, for as awful as that sounded, the doctor explained he was lucky his leg wasn't shattered. The downside was still, of course, that Noctis had been carrying Prompto everywhere around the cabin, which meant the two of them had been relocated to the den for the duration of the trip. 

Noctis cut Ignis a glare that effectively shut him up, and Ignis respected the plea. Still, it appeared the two of them had fallen apart without Ignis’ supervision, and he couldn't help but feel as though some of this blame could've been placed on him. 

Still, being in this cabin reminded Ignis why he'd partially agreed to go with Gladio over the break regardless; everything about Ravus’ cabin was overly familiar and unpleasant to him, even with Noct in tow. The ever looming threat of him dropping by unannounced kept Ignis on a sword’s edge the whole trip. 

Ignis wanted to blame the entirety of this Gladio situation on Ravus, but Ignis had no one to blame but himself. Whether Ravus had expedited his affection for Gladio or not, it didn't change the fact it would've happened regardless of his appearance. 

Ignis, however, probably shouldn't have told Noctis or Prompto. It just sort of came tumbling out. 

“What would you have done, were you in my situation?” Ignis sighed, preparing himself for whatever relationship advice came pouring from these morons’ mouths. 

“First off, it's Gladio,” Noctis made a face. “So it's like, super easy not to catch feeling for that idiot, unless you're just super cock hungry I guess.” 

“Dude,” Prom whined a little drunkenly. It was getting late, and between the warmth of body and the fire in addition to his painkillers, he'd be out soon. “Ignis is suffering here. Be nice. And Gladio's kinda hot.”

“Is not!” 

“Heh. Hotter than you.” 

“Shut up!” 

Ignis didn't bother to call their attention back in, but Prompto was already reaching out to Ignis, trying to draw him closer with thin fingers fisted in his shirt. 

“Do you like Gladio, or did you just wanna one and done the guy?” 

Ignis flushed. “There was none of that--” 

“Iris texted me everything,” Noct yawned boredly. “You owe that girl a fucking pony, by the way. I didn't know you were a screamer.” 

Prompto giggled. “I knew.” 

“We don't talk about that!” Ignis and Noctis insisted at the same time. 

“He isn't terrible,” Ignis conceded slowly, twitching under the scrutiny of two sets of blue eyes. “I just didn't expect my feelings to go beyond those of physical affection. He's very all or nothing when it comes to emotions and his reputation proceeds him when it comes to things like this. He'd lose interest in me the second we returned to classes, I'm sure of it.” 

Prompto blanched. “Dude. Tell me you did not break that giant man's heart just because you thought he wouldn't like you in two weeks.” 

Ignis scoffed. “Don't be stupid. I don't have time for relationships, you two know that. Gladio isn't exactly the sort of future I'd wish to secure myself either. He's…dysfunctional in a lot of ways and I don't have the time to put him back together. Any relationship I engage in seriously in the future needs to be one that is helpful to my career.” 

Noct was giving him a very withering look. “You're aware you have a job with me for life if you want it, right?” 

“It's ensuring that you have a job is what I worry about, Noctis.” 

Noct glared. 

“What happens when we go back to school?” Prom asked. 

Ignis let out a tired sigh. “I'll have to return his truck at some point and pick up the rest of my belongings. We can have a less emotional chat when that happens. He's a good friend. I'd hate to lose that.” 

Prompto and Noctis exchanged a look that Ignis couldn't quite decipher, but let the two of them change the subject to regale stories of their trip while he listened attentively. 

\----

Gentiana and Luna appeared before midnight, the both of them clearly dressed for bed in sweats with loose, swinging hair. Ignis once again found himself regretting the fact he couldn't simply make a sudden fondness for women creep into his bones, watching the way Noctis and Prompto had to be careful not to linger too long on their frames. 

It'd be easier by miles. 

“Ignis?” Luna called, kneeling on the floor to whisper, despite the fact the others could here. “Someone's at the front door for you. If you don't want him here, I'll have Genny sending them away, yeah?” 

Ravus’ face flashed before Ignis’ eyes when he realized, no, Ravus simply would've entered. Gladio. 

“Holy shit,” Noct whispered. “This guy just drove five hours to get here, _holy shit._ ” 

“Noctis,” Prom warned with a glare. 

Ignis swallowed stiffly, before nodding. 

“Of course. Whatever you wish.” 

\----

The girls left. 

Prom stretched his arms, holding them out in front of him. 

“Noct? Mind to carry me to the bath, buddy?” 

Noct made a face--half flustered and half pissed at the fact he wouldn't be able to watch the absolute murder that was about to happen in front of them--but bent down onto the floor so that Prompto could clamber carefully onto his back, the two of them exiting with pitiful glances. 

Then Gladio came in. 

\----

Ignis had been told he looked like a wreck when he'd arrived at the hospital, and he had been. He'd taken his time in the small bathroom to put himself back together with a cold wash rag to the face and a hospital-issue hairbrush. 

However Ignis had looked, however, Gladio looked nearly a million times worse. 

Red-faced and panting, shirt askew and hair a mess, Gladio definitely looked as if he'd flown through the five hour drive up the mountain and across Lucis without stop. The vaulted ceiling of the den dwarfed his massive size by half, not including the gut-twisting way he'd folded in on himself, arms folded and staring at Ignis as if he'd forgotten how to speak. 

He wondered briefly if this was how Gladio always reacted to rejection, or if rejection were simply something Gladio had never experienced before. Then, of course, he remembered how little social circles Gladio ran with, how small his concept of love seemed to be. 

Ignis supposed he would've been scared, too. Ignis had Noctis to run to; Gladio didn't really have anyone. 

The silence was brutal. They were both dead on their feet, sleep deprived two nights consecutively and emotionally exhausted. 

Ignis should've suggested that Gladio lay down, take a night to sleep and think things through. He had better manners than to simply send him away. 

He did, though. 

“You drove here,” Ignis deadpanned, breaking Gladio's plaintive stance. He nodded. 

“To see me?” 

Eyes on the ground, Gladio nodded. 

“I meant what I said, Gladiolus,” Ignis tried, softer this time. The distance between them was several feet, and every inch in both of them wanted to cross the divide. “And I want this friendship to continue, so please do us both a favor and don't say something you'll regret.” 

Gladio took pause, hands shoved in his pockets. His ponytail was a frazzled mess--and, to be fair, Ignis had been doing his hair every day for two weeks. Perhaps it had been that abysmal before, and he simply hadn't noticed. 

“I'm bad with words,” Gladio decided upon, taking a hesitant step forward. “And I just...I really thought you got me, you know?” 

Ignis frowned. “I'm not following you.” 

“Because you can read me,” Gladio grinned wildly, making Ignis’ stomach twist. “Better than anyone I've ever met, which should make no goddamn sense, ya know? Because you and I were barely friends two weeks ago and now you're all I can think about all day and all night.” 

“Gladio--” 

“Lemme finish, okay? I--ugh, I just really thought you got me, but it's...huh, it's obvious that you don't. But I think you could.” 

This wasn't an apology, then. This was another debate on why Ignis should give himself over to Gladio, simply because Gladio asked him to. 

Ignis had seen this before, been there before, done it all. 

He wasn't interested. 

Gladio was clearly waiting on Ignis’ response, perhaps asking for clarification. Ignis didn't need any. 

“Do you value me as a person, Gladiolus?” Ignis asked softly, turning to lean against the arm of the couch. 

“Of course.” 

“Then you value our friendship?” Ignis asked again, cutting his gaze so swiftly Gladio couldn't help but meet it. “Because I value yours.” 

Gladio nodded. 

Ignis kept the stern frown on his face, shifting his hips just a little. 

“I want you to trust me, Gladiolus,” he said, shifting his gaze back to the floor. “I think you're doing this because you want to keep me--you can trust that I'm not going anywhere, alright?” 

Gladio stiffened, his soft gaze immediately going dark. “That isn't what this is--” 

“But,” Ignis continued. “I promise if you continue to go down this road--the one that disrespects me, and my opinion, and my wishes--my friendship will be gone forever, and I mean that.”

\----

Gladio didn't push forward. 

Ignis watched him deflate, watched his face go through all the stages of confusion and anger until they relaxed into a shameful lethargy that made Ignis feel guilt in the pit of his stomach. 

“I still need to give you something.”

Having Gladio so close was daunting, especially when Ignis could still taste him on the backs of his teeth, smell him when he turned his head too quickly. Gladio's fingerprints were still all over him, and it would take more than a shower to wipe the memories away. 

The first was clearly an envelope. Ignis didn't bother counting the bills. 

“I can't take this--” 

“We had a contract,” Gladio said stiffly, moving away so as not to loom as Ignis fingered open the second gift, not pushing on the first; Gladio didn't look like he could handle another argument. 

A jewelry box again. Ignis had never been one for jewelry, but it appeared Gladio thought otherwise. Inside was a plain, silver chain, with nothing to adorn it. Perhaps it was tacky, just a smidge, but it was thin and barely noticeable. Ignis smiled despite himself, remembering all the praise Gladio had given to his throat and clavicle. 

“I get it if you changed your mind, but,” Gladio chuckled despite himself. “You, uh, said you were gonna keep the ring, but those kinda run guys off and I just thought you could….” 

“Wear it as a necklace,” Ignis finished, nodding quickly. “That's very kind of you, very thoughtful.” 

“Luna offered me a room,” Gladio spat out quickly. “But if that's weird for you or something--” 

“This is only upsetting if you let it be, Gladiolus,” Ignis smiled. It was a lie, all of it, but he owed him this much. “My opinion of you is no different. I'd love it if you'd stay.” 

\----

Gladio stayed for new years, before leaving with his truck. Ignis kissed Prompto at midnight, and Gentiana was still laughing at their disgusted expressions weeks later. 

Ignis’ belongings from the Amicitia mansion arrived by airmail. Iris had been kind enough to send a snapshot of the three of them, Gladio's mouth pressed to Ignis’ cheek adoringly. 

“It doesn't even look like you,” Noct mumbled in awe as he and Prompto gawked over the photo. 

“Dude, you're smiling so wide I can see your uvula. I get total dibs for you to be my fake boyfriend at my next family wedding, okay?” Prompto begged, but Ignis had long since sworn off any other fake engagements, private or otherwise. 

Gentiana was giving him that look again from across the room, the one that said she knew not only everything, but also better. 

Ignis ignored her. 

\----

Ignis hugged him before he left. 

“You aren't unlovable, Gladiolus,” Ignis murmured, even as Gladiolus clung to him embarrassingly tight. “It's just not the right time for me.”

\----

Gladio graduated in the summer. 

Ignis didn't see him again. 

\----

He didn't realize he was right in front of him until it was too late to run.

\----

“ID?” 

“ID,” Gladio grumbled, digging into his pocket, knowing full well the bartender knew exactly who he was. “I'm thirty years old, you really need my ID?” 

The bartender just popped her gum, unimpressed, hand outstretched to check the birth date. “Just doin’ my job.” 

“Didn't know they ID checked at weddings, either,” Gladio accused, vividly remembering being absolutely fucking sloshed at his cousin Lenny's wedding when he was seventeen. The panic behind her eyes was enough to let him know she just wanted a confirmation as to who he was. 

He'd been home for months after the defeat; not that anyone had expected him to win the seat after Ravus had been re-elected three times in a row. Gladio had done his best to avoid going outside, save for the fact the embarrassment followed him everywhere. 

He'd grown out his hair to his shoulders again, kept a neatly trimmed beard. It kept him from being recognized with frequency, but clearly this girl hadn't been briefed on who would be in attendance at this very lesbian wedding. 

Gladio shouldn't be bitter; Cindy looked gorgeous and Holly was lucky as shit, he just wished his own life was half as put together. 

To be fair, things were okay. Aranea had been kind enough to offer him an aid position, only to realize he had no fucking clue what he was doing, and assigned him an overworked intern to help pick up the slack. He'd been writing in his spare time, which was great. He loved it. 

The lack of human interaction was less than ideal, but what could you do? Maybe this was just life after college for him. Maybe this was just life. 

It could've been worse. 

He'd been side-eyeing a girl at the end of the bar for close to an hour when another ass slid into his field of vision just a few seats down and ordered two glasses of wine he'd never heard of, catching his attention immediately. 

He should've recognized him sooner. 

“Enjoying the view?” 

The accent had to be from a timeline Gladio had never lived in, some kind of fever dream he'd had as an infant that he couldn't quite recall. 

Ignis had aged well. 

He was smiling expectantly, holding out a glass of wine, his expression ever guarded. 

Gladio couldn't remember the last time they'd spoken; probably in Prompto's shitty dorm room, smoking it up before graduation. Ignis probably hadn't even addressed him. They'd been careful that final semester to never be alone together, never make eye contact for too long, never sit too close. It had been all kinds of painful. 

Ignis looked put together at twenty-nine; he'd seen him in passing or on the television occasionally, standing behind Regis and looking bored. Up close he was glowing, smiling brightly and probably a little tipsy if the red hue at his ears was any indication. 

He gave Gladio a pinched expression. “Or I can turn around we can pretend this didn't happen--” 

“Hey, no, wait!” Gladio surged forward, nearly falling out of his stool. Ignis, to his credit, just offered Gladio a lopsided grin and the stem of the extra wine glass. “I mean--heya.” 

“Hey yourself,” Ignis smiled, sliding into the stool opposite Gladio, all long legs and pressed suit. Ignis, as always, cleaned up well. His hair was too long, slicked back and formal. Gladio's foggy mind could barely remember what it looked like down. 

Five years and he'd forgotten nearly everything, it seemed. Perhaps his brain wasn't so useless after all. 

“I didn't expect to see you here,” they said simultaneously, Ignis grinning and Gladio glaring down into his own glass. 

“Yeah.” 

“I just meant,” Ignis amended. “It's very brave of you to appear so soon after a defeat. It shows class that you aren't holed up somewhere.” 

Gladio shrugged, knowing full well what option he preferred. 

“You babysitting Prince Charmless?” 

“As always,” Ignis sighed, nodding toward a table across the room. He could make out Luna, hair neat and pantsuit pressed from where she's perched on Noct’s lap, and Prompto with an ear full of piercings talking much too excitedly to be sober. “They're paying me to do it now, which makes for a charmed life.” 

Gladio glanced over in surprise. “You've graduated. What in the world are you doing with your free time?” 

“Free time?” Ignis scoffed into his wine. “You think getting him to graduate is easy, you do it.” 

Ignis’ shy smile was blinding, as always, even if it was ducked against his chest. 

“However,” Ignis sighed. “I've been working on a doctorate for the fun of it, started writing some memoirs.” 

Gladio raised his eyebrows. “I'd pay to see that.” 

“No one ever will,” Ignis threatened seriously, studying his wine glass very studiously. The silence was comfortable for the first time in a very long time. 

Then Ignis ruined it. 

“You're in it quite a bit,” he admitted, so softly Gladio thinks the mixologist must've roofied him. 

“I'm sorry?” 

There's his out, the place where Ignis can laugh and say he's just fucking with him. But he doesn't. 

He shrugged, glancing to the side with a sly smile. 

“I hate to admit it, but you were quite the adventure, Gladiolus.”

Gladio snorted. “I'll do you a favor and forget you said that.” 

“I'm serious!” Ignis laughed again, reaching out to bat at his chest, and Gladio knew Ignis was totally a little drunk--or maybe just into him. Maybe both. Shit. 

“You were one of the more interesting trysts I've had,” he continued, leaning on his elbow. “I can't really bring myself to regret you. I regret not articulating more.” 

“More?” Gladio asked stupidly. 

“Hmm,” Ignis agreed, glancing at his watch as if he'd suddenly remembered he was supposed to be somewhere else. “Did you come here with anyone?” 

Gladio blinked. “Honestly? Was gonna bring Iris, but she had a date tonight, so.” 

“Ah,” Ignis grinned into his glass, and Gladio realized for the first time he wasn't wearing his glasses. He couldn't decide which look he preferred. 

“You?” 

“Oh, goodness, no,” Ignis sighed. “You'd think this sudden free time would mean I could actually get a date but alas, it's harder than you think to find a decent date on a college campus.” 

Gladio grinned. The girl at the end of the bar was long forgotten. 

Ignis’ rosebud mouth hadn't changed at all. 

“It's really good to see you again,” Ignis settled on, leaning away with bright eyes, as if beginning to take his leave. 

The panic in Gladio's eyes must've been evident, because Ignis lowered himself back down again, chuckling. It was amazing how most of their encounter seemed to be playing faster in Ignis’ head than Gladio could even keep up with. 

When he turned back to him, Gladio caught the bright gleam of a silver chain around his throat. There were a few baubles on it now; something that appeared to be a house key, a small gilded feather charm and a tacky skull pendant Noct must've bought him for a joke, but at the apex of his clavicle it was more than visible that the ring was among the assorted charms. 

Ignis caught him staring. 

“Uh,” Gladio began dumbly, hoping desperately not to trip over his words. 

Ignis’ amused countenance never failed them. 

“Before I say something insanely stupid,” he mused, careful with his guarded eye contact as ever. “Would you like to get out of here?” 

Gladio blinked, preparing himself. His brain might've erased Ignis’ mannerisms from his mind, the embarrassment was fresh as ever. “To your apartment?” 

Ignis grinned. “That's sort of second date material, don't you think?” 

“Date?” 

Ignis made that pinched face again, leaning away and guarding himself. “If that's not what you're interested in….” 

“I just don't get it,” Gladio gruffed, watching Ignis shrug again. 

“Turns out I've got a pretty great life, but Netflix and Chill with Prompto isn't really cutting it anymore.” 

Gladio couldn't tell if it was a joke or not, but Ignis was snorting into the cuffs of his suit, and Gladio couldn't help but smile. 

“I'm not afraid of starting something anymore,” Ignis mused. “And you and I have already been through the worst of it. You aren't in love with me anymore.” 

“I'm not,” Gladio clarified, entirely truthful. 

Ignis smirked, downing the rest of his wine glass. “Good. Let's get out of here.” 

Gladio couldn't believe this was actually happening, if he were honest. He'd given up on second chances along time ago. 

He also knew better than to let Ignis go again. 

Ignis linked their arms together--it must've been a million years ago Gladio last touched his skin--and he was surprised at how foreign it felt in so many ways. Unfamiliar, as if he'd intentionally let the memories fade from the burning, sepia hues they'd once been filed away in his mind as. 

It was disappointing, only somewhat, as if he'd gotten over Ignis entirely. 

The night air was freezing as they broke into it, shuffling quickly to Ignis’ car, giggling like teenagers and reaching for each other's hand. 

Let the memories fade. Let him forget. Let his old feelings melt into non-existence. 

He knew what was coming around the corner, something better, something new. This time, he'd enjoy the fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's over!! Finally!!!! 
> 
> For those curious: the good ending was going to be Gladio following Ignis to the cabin, Ignis initially rejecting him, but a few days around each other at the cabin would've lead them getting together on new years eve. I thought that felt a bit too trite and expected, and frankly unrealistic, not to mention it would've been the same sexual tension pattern I used this whole fic and it would've been very boring. 
> 
> The "bad" ending, which I initially preferred, was going to be something along the lines Ignis rejecting Gladio point blank, and them never getting together. The ending would've been similar to this one (in my mind I imagined more a coffee shop) but initially meeting in the future, without them getting together in the end. It's a lot more realistic, since Ignis has no interest in a relationship (even if he does have feelings) and Gladio has no interest in a friendship (since he feels as though he can't keep Ignis in his life this way). 
> 
> This current ending is a little cliche, but I think it's a good compromise between the two. I like to imagine they're in the mountains somewhere, Gladio writing awful novels and Ignis running Noct's national campaign from home over the internet. They have a cat and a few more tattoos. Life is good lol. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks so much for reading this story! It means the world to me ♡ 
> 
> You can come scream at me on tumblr, I'm @thicchocobobutt
> 
> Comments and kudos are more than appreciated, please have a great life ♡♡♡♡♡

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! Thanks for staying to the end. As always, comments and kudos are appreciated, and I hope you have a great day! ♡♡♡


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